In The Hollow of the Heart
by bonnyblonde
Summary: Elizabeth stayed faithful in body, but a promise kept by another man meant Will no longer held her heart. Briefly Willabeth, but really Barbossabeth. MA for adult situations
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 - A Life Ashore**

_Six months after Will's departure..._

The portly solicitor sighed heavily, pulling his worn watch from where it was jammed into his very tight vest pocket and looking at it wearily as if to signal Elizabeth of the high value of his time. "Does it suit, Miss Turner? You'll not find a finer establishment on the market, at least not in this part of town."

"It's 'Missus,' actually, Mister Upton," Elizabeth responded pointedly. She dragged her finger through the thick dust on the mantle and wrinkled her nose in disgust. The place would need work, no doubt about that, but the structure seemed fundamentally sound. So long as the place wasn't falling down around her, she could make the necessary repairs and get the Cats Castle Rooming House up and running within a few weeks' time. She couldn't manage more of a delay than that; in about three months she would give birth and she needed both a place to nest and a viable business venture that would provide sufficient income for her and the baby to live comfortably.

As though privy to her thoughts, her most precious cargo shifted inside her and she caressed her protruding belly as though to coax the child back to sleep. Instead of calming down, though, the infant responded by kicking her hand with a tiny foot, bringing an affectionate smile to her face. Her little one grew more active with every passing day, seemingly impatient to make an entrance into the world. If he or she was half so lively after arrival, Elizabeth knew she truly would have her hands full.

"_Missus Turner_, then," Upton responded, the tone of his voice telling her that his mind was less on her marital status than on the more profitable business he was doubtlessly neglecting back at his firm. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his rather high, sweaty forehead, clearly feeling the afternoon's heat through his many layers of clothes. "It's been sitting empty for several years and Mister Lord is anxious to sell. He is in the process of building a much grander residence on the southeast shore and wishes to divest himself of his..._lesser_ holdings so as to better provide for his household."

It struck Elizabeth as humorous to hear Sam Lord spoken of in such reverent terms. It was poorly kept secret how the man was financing his new, palatial estate...he was, in fact, a buccaneer, although of a much different ilk than those she knew best. Rather than sailing out and engaging his victims in open combat, Lord hung lanterns in the banana trees around his property at night and lured ships in close, their unsuspecting captains believing the lights to be those of Bridgeport's harbour. Once a ship hit the shallow reefs, the pirate and his slaves would sail out in rowboats, board the broken vessels and plunder to their hearts' content.

Sam Lord had been the first person she'd called upon when she arrived on Barbados, a courtesy visit on its face but at its heart, truly a gambit of sorts. Elizabeth had wanted to meet with him while her erstwhile title as King of the Brethren Court still leant her words some weight and authority. She was, after all, the interloper and it was better to make her intentions known straight away rather than let him make his own, less magnanimous assumptions about her reasons for being there.

As his mansion was still under construction, Lord's servants had laid out a proper English tea in the shade of the banana grove. He'd been waiting for her, dressed in a formal breeches and topcoat as if to impress her with his status as landowner. A tall, thin man in his forties, he'd bowed in respectful greeting and pulled her chair out for her before settling into his own. Lord had raised a bushy eyebrow at the sight of her swollen abdomen but had refrained from comment, instead pouring out the tea and politely inquiring as to the well-being of several of the pirate lords with whom she'd become acquainted during the battle against Beckett.

Once the niceties had been dispensed with, she suggested that in exchange for not usurping his territory, she would settle in Bridgeport and establish her own venture on the opposite coast. When Lord expressed his reluctance to share the small island with her, Elizabeth suggested rather strongly that some of her comrades might be insulted at his lack of deference and generosity of spirit towards their King. Knowing the reputations of her former shipmates, Lord grudgingly accepted her proposal and went on to confess that he had a property in said town which might very well meet her needs.

It had been a dicey strategy – she'd left Jack, Barbossa and the other pirates far behind in Tortuga following the battle and it was unlikely that she could count upon them to back her play, even if she had some way of contacting them and requesting their help. Fortunately, Lord had chosen not to risk provoking an unnecessary future confrontation. And so had she found herself in Bridgeport, taking the first step towards a more acceptable, conventional way of life.

From that point forward, at least as far as she was concerned, Elizabeth Swann, pirate king, ceased to exist. Mrs. Eliza Turner, proprietor of a modest rooming house and respectable wife of an absent merchant captain, had taken her place. Her life in England was long gone and making a life at sea would be impossible with a baby on the way. She was determined to become someone else entirely and ensure her child was well brought up while she waited for Will to fulfill his commitment as captain of the _Flying Dutchman_.

The thought of his prolonged time at sea brought forth an ache deep in her heart. It wasn't fair that she had to make her way alone and without a single person in whom she could confide as she faced each uncertain day. Although ten years might not be forever, it certainly seemed that way now. At least she would have a part of her beloved husband with her once their baby was born. She would lavish the child with enough love for both parents while the two of them awaited Will's return.

Elizabeth sucked in a deep breath and surveyed the house once more. "Yes, Mister Upton. The house will do just fine. Shall we return to your office and arrange for the transfer of the deed?"

For the first time, the solicitor looked uncertain. "Well…that is, Missus Turner…as you are no doubt aware, married women cannot own property separate from their husbands. Are you quite sure that Mister Turner will approve of this acquisition?"

Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed. During her time at sea she had grown accustomed to the many freedoms of a pirate, and it grated on her nerves to once again become subservient and meekly accepting of her place as a woman under British law. The irony was that if she was either single or a widow, Lord's lawyer would have no such concern – it was only once a woman was married that she ceased to be a person in her own right. Becoming Will's wife had taken that from her. For less than a heartbeat, she resented him for it and then felt instantly ashamed. He was the most decent man she knew and he certainly deserved better from her than such selfish thoughts. What was such a minor annoyance when compared to what Will had to endure every day?

"My husband, _Captain Turner_, has granted me the authority to act as his representative in this transaction, sir," she answered quietly. "If he could be here, trust me – he would. In his absence, he has given me full permission to conduct this bit of business on his behalf, with the expectation that I will make a decent home to which he may return once his voyages are at an end."

Upton looked relieved. "Of course. I merely had to make certain we understood one another. And as Mister Lord can surely vouch for the veracity of your situation, I see no reason to delay. We can have the papers finalized this very day and then you can prepare to move in."

Elizabeth gave Lord's lawyer a thin smile. "Very kind of you, I'm sure." She watched him waddle towards the front entrance, uncharitably thinking to herself that he resembled some great fat toad slithering its way back beneath a cool, damp rock. Eventually she trailed after him, determined to get the legalities out of the way so she could focus on what needed to be done to start her life over once again.


	2. Chapter 2

_Three years into Will's time upon the Dutchman..._

* * *

_He stood behind her, his breath tickling her skin as he bent to place a tender kiss on the nape of her neck. Elizabeth shivered as he gently slipped the silk chemise from her shoulders, and it glided softly down her arms and over her hips to cascade into a shimmering black pool at her feet._

He slid his hands beneath her elbows and lifted her arms above and behind her head, wrapping them around his neck as he nuzzled her ear. As he pressed his body to hers, her back arched and her breasts thrust forward wantonly, her nipples stiff and hot in anticipation of his touch.

The scent of the sea surrounded them...it was in his hair and on his skin, the fragrance enticing and familiar and loved. His bare chest rose and fell against her back in a tidal rhythm, and Elizabeth knew that given a chance, she would lose herself in him completely. His strong, rough fingers smoothed a path over the swell of her hips, making her tremble as he caressed her everywhere but where she wanted it most.

She whimpered and he chuckled at her impatience, finally rewarding her by running his fingers lightly up along her ribs and cupping her breasts delicately in his palms. He circled her nipples with the pads of his thumbs and she gasped sharply, her head lolling back against his shoulder and her eyes squeezing shut against the shock of pleasure that surged through her body.

The hard ridge of his desire pushed against the soft flesh of her buttocks, the promise of unrestrained passion weakening her knees. She wanted more than anything to strip him of his breeches and take him into her hands, fondling him until he was every bit as desperate as she was. "Kiss me," Elizabeth begged, her lips parting as she fisted his hair in her hand and tugged hard to bring his face closer. "Please..."

"Mama! Maaamaaaaaa!"

Elizabeth startled awake, her heart thudding almost painfully against her ribcage and her body still throbbing with the arousal the dream had awoken. As her son's wails grew in volume, she kicked off her covers and swung her feet to the cold floor, shaking in frustration and on the verge of crying.

Stumbling barefoot down the short hallway, Elizabeth pushed her arms through the sleeves of her robe as she shook off the remnants of the dream. As exhausted as she was every night, she'd have thought herself past such flights of fancy. It had come to the point where she almost feared falling asleep – far from bringing her relief, the recurring, stunningly intimate dreams of a mysterious lover only served to intensify her loneliness. After each one, her despair deepened and her heart grew heavier.

She pushed open the nursery door to see William standing beside his tiny bed, his mop of golden brown hair tousled, his bottom lip quivering and a sodden nappy drooping halfway down his chubby thighs. It was going to be a blessing when he finally learned to wake up and use his chamber pot when he needed to pass water, but he'd only just turned two and she couldn't expect too much of the child. "I'm here, sweetheart. It's all right…Mama's here," she sighed, crouching in front of him. William stood before her, sniffling as she tossed aside the soiled bit of cloth and wiped him down quickly with a damp rag from his wash basin.

Before she could get a dry nappy on him, William threw his little arms around her neck and squeezed tightly. Elizabeth's mouth opened in surprise and she paused for a moment before embracing her little boy with equal fervour. Not a youngster generally prone to impulsive displays of affection, his gesture was startling and touching at the same time. It was almost as though he sensed her misery and sought to comfort her the only way he could, a thought that very nearly moved her to tears.

"Mama stay," he whispered against her cheek, and she smiled softly as she buried her nose in his baby fine hair. She had no right to allow her spirits to lag. At least she and William had one another…it would just have to be enough, at least for the next seven years.

"Come, darling…you can sleep in my bed, but just for tonight." His sheets were wet and she simply didn't have the stamina to strip the linens away and remake his bed altogether. Besides, maybe having her son close by would keep the dreams at bay for the few precious hours left until sunrise. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around William and stood, grabbing a nappy from the chest of drawers before returning to her own room to tuck him in beside her.

* * *

Sarah must have noticed that Elizabeth's nerves were frayed by the end of the day, for her maidservant casually suggested after dinner that she'd very much like to take William over to see the brand new colt at the livery where Sarah's father worked as a farrier. The girl doted on William and Elizabeth sent them on their way with profuse gratitude, confident that he was in good hands.

With the gift of quiet time, she could have easily caught up on the mending, but as always the softly burning dusk called to her through the windows and she wasn't inclined to resist it. Elizabeth tugged off her apron and hung it on a hook behind the scullery door. With only one boarder in residence, she decided she wouldn't be missed for half an hour or so. Grabbing her shawl from the closet, she threw it around her shoulders and slipped out the front door of her rooming house.

The buildings along the main street of Bridgeport cast cool violet shadows across her path, cut through here and there with the warm amber glow of lantern light from windows and doors. As she briskly moved through the cobblestone streets towards the edge of town, she smiled and exchanged polite Yule greetings with other citizens out and about but didn't stop to talk with anyone.

She knew the people of Bridgeport found her to be pleasant but reserved; although it hurt to isolate herself in such a way, she felt she had no choice but to keep her fellow islanders at arm's length. The many dark secrets in her past would prove ruinous if they were let slip with a single wrong word. Friendship was a luxury she could ill afford, even though the lack of it made her solitude more difficult to bear.

Finally clearing the last dwellings, she slowed down and waded through the tall grass until she had a clear view of the coral-coloured sunset. Watching the day end had become something of a ritual for her; it marked one less day she'd be alone, one day closer to seeing her husband again and realizing the happiness that had been absent from her life for so long.

The bracing ocean breeze blew around her and she wrapped her shawl more tightly around her arms, seeing the first glimmer of the evening star high in the western sky. The waves set the last rays of the sun dancing and the sleek silhouettes of shore birds were scattered against the blazing orange clouds, their sad cries beckoning her closer to the precipice.

She stopped a few feet short of the edge and stared down at the black rocks in the shallows, watching the deep green waves smash into white foam against the jagged berm. If she didn't love William as she did, if she didn't know firsthand how devastating the loss of a parent could be, she might have been tempted to take those final few steps and let herself fall into the sweet oblivion offered by the dark reef. If she flung herself far enough out, perhaps she'd be dragged out to sea as she died and Will would come for her at last, ending her pain and joining her as they sailed together towards an endless sunrise.

Elizabeth choked back a sob and shook her head, closing her eyes as an errant tear tracked over her cheek. She wouldn't take the coward's way out...she had been raised better than that. And when compared to so many others, she had countless blessings – a warm home, food to eat, a beautiful child and the love of her husband, absent though he was. Far too much to throw away.

"I'm waiting, Will," she whispered, impatiently wiping away the tear. "I know I promised...but it's so hard. If you could come back soon, even for a single day, it would make all the difference."

She lifted her face and looked out across the water once more. The sun had half disappeared below the ocean and pale stars peered down on her from a navy blue sky. There would be no green flash marking Will's return tonight, she knew. But she would keep her vigil...she had to. It was the only thought that sustained her now.

Elizabeth was about to turn and make her way back to town when a shadowy shape on the horizon caught her eye. She squinted and was able to make out the outline of a ship, her sails full of wind and moving quickly towards Bridgeport. As the vessel devoured the distance, she gasped in recognition.

No, it couldn't be. She must be mistaken...

Her heart tripped over itself. The curve of the hull, the jut of the bowsprit and the array of the sails made for an utterly distinct silhouette – there was no other ship like her. And surely it was no coincidence that her captain had chosen Barbados as his destination.

As the ship closed in, she altered course slightly and made for a small western bay rather than the town harbour. Clearly the crew knew better than to drop anchor too close to Bridgeport. The appearance of this particular craft in the marina would send the townspeople into wild panic and bedlam would ensue; that being the case, whoever was coming ashore would likely row over to the small, isolated beach at the bottom of the cliff. Whirling, Elizabeth ran as fast as she could for the meandering foot path leading to the shore, her loneliness forgotten in the midst of her excitement.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - A Past Revisted**

_Six years since Will Turner disappeared in a green flash on the horizon..._

As soon as the shopkeeper's door closed behind her, Elizabeth wrapped her arms tightly around her parcels and scurried back through the foggy darkness towards the rooming house. As lovely as it was to call the Caribbean home, she didn't relish its short December days. It wasn't the fact that night fell so early that worried her, but rather that as of late, Bridgeport after sunset had become a dangerous place.

A new bordello that had opened on the outskirts attracted an unsavoury element to the town, one whose activities weren't always kept contained within the walls of the seedy establishment. Derelict ships now dotted the harbour, and crewmen flooded ashore to lose themselves in their cups and slake long suppressed lusts. Had they been satisfied with simply availing themselves of the services rendered at the whorehouse, the residents of the little port town would likely have been content to turn a blind eye to their conduct. Any commerce was welcome by the local merchants, especially since the sugar trade had largely moved elsewhere. But a growing number of ugly incidents – robberies, beatings and public lewdness – had set everyone on edge, and this was doubly true for Bridgeport's womenfolk.

Elizabeth had a small stiletto tucked into her garter, but it would likely do her little good against a truly determined attacker. More lethal weapons would have been preferable but respectable ladies did not traipse about town carrying a sword and pistol, and she had a reputation to maintain. To her great dismay, that necessity made her nearly as vulnerable as any other female finding herself alone when darkness blanketed the island.

The gaslights cast a spectral glow through the mist and her footsteps sounded hushed as she hurried along, glancing warily at the shadow-filled alleys for signs of movement. It had been foolish to linger so long at the store, but she had found a set of tiny toy soldiers she wanted to buy for William and it had taken some time to haggle with the merchant for what she considered to be a fair price. The Turner household didn't have a great deal of money for extras but she had been determined to provide her five-year old son with some small gift to celebrate the season.

When at last she turned the corner and caught sight of her house's dim outline at the end of the street, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief and slowed her pace. Hopefully, the Royal Navy would deign to establish a stronger presence in the West Indies sooner than later, and the town would be saved from descending into the same debauched state as Tortuga. She didn't relish the idea of uprooting her son and starting all over again, although if the state of the town continued to decline, it might prove necessary in the end. They only had to endure for a little over four more years and then she, Will and their son could seek their fortunes in more civilized surroundings.

She was only a few houses away from her own when she heard a noise from the alley, a sharp cry of alarm that was swiftly muffled. Elizabeth stopped in her tracks, holding her breath and listening carefully. All was silent and she wondered if in the midst of all the uneasiness, she hadn't just imagined the sound in the first place.

She was just about to walk on when it came again, a whimper followed by a frantic scuffling against the cobblestones. Swiftly ducking into the shadows of the surrounding buildings, Elizabeth crouched low to lay her packages on the ground and lifted her skirts to retrieve her knife. A jolt of fear made her pulse pound in her veins, but she forced the feeling back as she crept forward to peer through the gloom between the houses.

Elizabeth made out the figures of a man and woman grappling against the wall in a pale yellow shaft of light spilling from the crack in a doorway. Although she was putting up a valiant fight against her much larger male opponent, it was clear that the woman would not be able to hold him off for much longer. Her attacker had her pressed face-first against the bricks, clamping a large hand tightly over her mouth as he tore at her clothes.

"Think yer too good fer the likes of me, do ye?" he growled, jerking the woman's head back as she struggled beneath his body. "Walk right past me with yer pretty nose in the air and without so much as returnin' my greetin'…no manners at all! When I'm done with ye, might be ye'll not think yerself so high and mighty!"

The woman's cry of protest was cut short as he slammed her face roughly against the wall, dazing her enough that she slumped in his grasp. Keeping her pinned in place with his shoulder, the ruffian pulled out a dagger and slashed his victim's skirts until her undergarments were exposed, tearing at the fabric with brutal haste. Caught up in the need to satisfy his animalistic urges, he was unaware of Elizabeth's stealthy approach until the razor-sharp edge of her blade was pressed against his neck.

"She is too good for you," Elizabeth hissed at him, pulling back on his greasy black hair until his throat was fully exposed. The scent of rancid sweat and putrid filth surrounded him, almost causing her to gag. "Then again, I can't think of anyone else who couldn't claim the same, you despicable pig."

He stiffened and his eyes went wide as he tried to catch a glimpse of his assailant, but she kept him from turning by positioning the blade against a throbbing vein in his neck. Unexpectedly, he chuckled.

"Ye'll just have to wait yer turn, lovie," he said with a sly grin, his own gleaming weapon still held tight in his hand. "Been at sea an awful long time, so there's more than enough fer both of ye."

"Drop…your…knife," Elizabeth snarled, sinking the blade deeply enough into his hide that a drop of blood welled and trickled down over his dirt-encrusted skin. "I'll not tell you again."

"Or you'll what?" he laughed unpleasantly, the stench of his rotting teeth filling the small space between them.

The woman he had crushed against the wall seemed to suddenly regain her senses at the sound of his voice and writhed wildly against him, elbowing him with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs and relax his hold on her. She twisted away from him and fell awkwardly to the ground, scooting backwards out of his reach before starting to screech hysterically.

"Run!" Elizabeth hollered at her as the brute pulled free and lunged towards the woman, heedless of the weapon opening a long, red gash on the side of his neck. "Get a constable! GO!"

The terrified woman staggered to her feet and ran, the tatters of of her ruined dress flapping behind her as she flew from the alleyway into the street, the echoes of her screams rising up through the cold night air as she disappeared into the darkness.

Rather than give chase, the haggard pirate whirled around and advanced on Elizabeth, thinking her an easier target. "Ye think that wee bit of steel's gonna save ye, whore?" he roared. "Ye've cost me an evenins' entertainment and so perhaps ye'll be taking her place. I'll have ye well used and yer throat cut long before help arrives! Should have minded yer own business…ye made yer last mistake!" He pulled a broadsword from his scabbard, pointing it menacingly in her direction.

Elizabeth braced herself and held her stiletto at the ready as he stalked towards her. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest and she swallowed hard against the lump that had grown in her throat. The best she could hope for would be to get past his guard and take him at close quarters. With the length of his sword, though, he'd likely have her incapacitated long before he was within striking distance of her small knife. She backed away from him cautiously, determined to keep him at bay for as long as possible and buy herself whatever time she could.

"What's the matter?" he taunted, waving the heavy blade slowly from side to side as blood trickled from the wound in his neck. "No more clever, cuttin' remarks, I guess. Not so brave on that end of my sword, now, are ye?"

"A great deal braver than ye," came a familiar, gravely voice, and Elizabeth gasped in relieved surprise as Hector Barbossa stepped into the alleyway from behind her. "Attemptin' to have yer way with an unwillin' woman – that be an especially vile act of cowardice. Almost as low as attackin' a woman with naught but a knife to defend herself."

"I wasn't expecting you for another week," she said, keeping an eye on her suddenly confused and concerned adversary. She dared a quick smile at the captain and received one in return.

"Caught a good tailwind comin' outta Cuba," Barbossa replied with a shrug, casually drawing his cutlass from its scabbard. "Seems to have worked to yer advantage, Missus Turner."

The other pirate narrowed his eyes in disgust. "Not like you to meddle a fight that ain't yers, Barbossa. The doxy started this…let her finish it, too."

Hector smirked deviously. "By the powers, yer right." He stepped closer to Elizabeth, exchanging the stiletto in her hand for his sword. "If ye knew who it was ye were challengin', Thomas Anstis, ye'd have turned heel and run when first she appeared."

For a moment, the man's arrogance seemed to waver. "What are ye sayin'? That I ain't capable of takin' on a _woman_?" He eyed Elizabeth with scornful appraisal but obviously saw nothing to make him doubt a certain victory.

She wrapped her hand tightly around the grip, swinging the sword through the air in front of her a few times in order to test its weight. Satisfied that she could handle the extra heft of Barbossa's weapon, she glared coldly at the would-be rapist.

"You have a choice," she whispered menacingly, arranging her feet in an attack stance and pointing the cutlass towards him. "You can leave my town now and never return. Or… I can cut you into a thousand ribbons –starting with that offensive little stub between your legs – and leave you bleeding your life out on the cobblestones for the colonial constabulary to find. If you're not dead by the time they arrive, they'll be all too happy to hang you in the morning."

Anstis barked in disbelief. "We'll see who is left standin' in the end, won't we? Show me what yer made of, young miss!"

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. "That's, 'Your Majesty,' if you don't mind. Until another takes the crown, I remain the King of the Brethren Court. And I'll be only too happy to show you how I earned my reputation."

The man's mouth gaped in dismayed astonishment. "The _King_? Yer Lizzie Swann? Naw, can't be. Heard that she returned to England to wait on her husband!"

"Obviously, the rumours of my departure were premature to say the least," she sniffed, taking a careful step and swatting at the tip of his sword. The clang of their blades rang through the alley. "Or perhaps Captain Barbossa is simply leading you down a garden path and I'm not who he says at all. Are you willing to bet your life on hearsay?"

Anstis glowered at her, battling indecision for a few moments before he let his blade dip towards the ground and retreated back towards the street. In the distance, Elizabeth could hear the pounding of boots on the pavement, rushing towards their location. The woman had obviously summoned assistance, God bless her. "I guess I'll be leavin', then," he snapped contemptuously, sheathing his sword. "Even if I was to beat ye, I have a feelin' that I'd be watchin' fer the _Black Pearl_ on me stern ever after."

"Perhaps ye ain't so stupid as I've heard tell," Barbossa said calmly, his arms crossing over his chest and all vestiges of humour disappearing from his face. "Best ye let yer shipmates and any others ye come across know that the citizens of Bridgeport be well protected."

Anstis's lips formed a grim, pale line before he turned and slipped into the night. Elizabeth let out a heavy sigh of relief and sagged against the bricks, willing her pulse to slow to normal as his fleeing footsteps faded away.

"I'll be askin' for me cutlass back, Missus Turner," Barbossa said, his hand outstretched to receive his weapon. "I think it wise that I make meself scarce b'fore the king's constables rush to yer aid. One pirate seems very much like another when folks are in a panic; they'll not take the time to discern between me an' the enemy should I be caught sharin' yer company. I'm not of a mind to swing by me neck fer the sake of a misunderstandin'."

"I'll see you back home, then?" she breathed, returning his sword before mussing hair and tugging a few buttons from her dress so it looked as though she'd engaged in a fight as well. If she appeared overwrought and teary enough when the constables arrived, it might just keep her reputation as a helpless female intact while gaining her a welcome escort home.

Hector winked and nodded at her before disappearing back into the shadows from whence he'd appeared.

* * *

Elizabeth gave profuse thanks to the young and eager lad who'd seen her home before soundly closing the door in his face to forestall further conversation. She rested her forehead against the heavy oak for a moment before wrapping William's present in her cloak and concealing it within the elephant-foot umbrella stand by the coat rack. After everything she'd gone through to get the gift, she was determined that it would remain a surprise.

She pushed back her hair as she dragged herself into the sitting room and fell into her chair at the fireside. Rubbing at the back of her neck, she smiled ruefully and shook her head. Quite the way to spend an evening, she decided. She was lucky that it had ended on a good note; only a few years earlier, that might not have been the case.

"I think ye might have enjoyed that bit of a battle," Hector said softly, approaching from the darkened doorway to the kitchen. He held a small glass of brandy out towards her.

"Perhaps a little," Elizabeth muttered as she reached for it, alarmed to see her fingers were trembling slightly. She snatched her hand back, folding her fingers and clasping one hand within the other on her lap.

He frowned and placed the glass on the small table at her side. Kneeling before her, he took her hands in between both of his and rubbed gently at them. "Never seen ye come undone just by way of a fight before," he commented, his brow furrowing and his blue eyes serious.

"I haven't taken up a weapon for a long time," she answered shyly, the warmth of his skin shocking her. In all the years he'd been coming to visit her and William, Barbossa had never laid a hand on her. Somehow to have him touch her with compassion was far more troubling than had he tried to do so out of desire. Elizabeth was used to fending off his harmless flirtations but having him comfort her in such a way moved her deeply.

He didn't respond, seemingly content to hold her hands as the shaking gradually stopped. "Ye did yerself proud, lass," he said, his thumb moving in small, light circles against the inside of her wrist. "But ye must know that I'd not have let ye come to any harm."

His words, benevolent and protective, caused her heart swell in her chest. Although she knew he meant them only with kindness, they were sweet enough to make her throat feel tight. It wasn't right for her to feel this way when a man other than her husband spoke to her…it wasn't right that he should touch her so tenderly.

Slowly so as not to offend, she pulled her hands away and grabbed the stem of the glass he'd offered her. She tossed back the rich golden liquor so that it burned a path down her throat and warmed her belly. A bit of her courage restored, she jumped from her chair and strode over to the wall, yanking on the corded pull that rang in the bell in Sarah's quarters. Hector gazed at Elizabeth thoughtfully for a moment before slowly rising and settling into the wingback chair he favoured.

Her cheeks were burning hot and she hoped that he hadn't noticed how truly unnerved she was, the recent fight notwithstanding. "I'll have Sarah draw you a bath…you certainly can't slip into bed in that condition," Elizabeth said loudly, shivering at the memory of his touch. How pathetic she was, nearly being turned inside out by such a very innocent gesture, and from Hector Barbossa at that! He'd laugh out loud if he knew of the reaction he'd elicited.

"'Course not," he murmured, his eyes half closed as he stared at the orange fingers of flame licking at the stones within the hearth. "Wouldn't mind summut to eat first, though, if ye've anythin' in the larder. Been a few days without provisions and I'll not be able to sleep on so empty a belly."

"I'll fix you a plate," she answered brightly, glad of something to do that would necessitate leaving the room. Elizabeth hustled towards the kitchen but then stopped suddenly, daring to look back over her shoulder at him.

"Captain…Hector," she said softly, waiting until he'd turned towards her. "I want…that is, thank you for what you did tonight. What you've done for both of us, too, William and I. I'm…I'm so glad you found us."

His eyes widened briefly in surprise, but whether it was because she'd called him by his given name or because of her gratitude, she didn't wait to find out. Elizabeth hurried away to await Sarah's arrival and to prepare a meal fit for her saviour.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 - The Lady Lovibond**

_Just over a year until Will is to return..._

"Know ye, young Master Turner, what 'tis I be holdin' before ye?"

Elizabeth put down her quill and glanced over her shoulder, smiling fondly as delight dawned on her son's face. Like William, she knew that Barbossa's words signalled the launch of another swashbuckling story. An image flashed in her mind from the first fable she'd ever heard told by the notorious pirate…one about a ship full of men, cursed to sail the seas as the walking dead, and their quest to put an end to their suffering through a hard-fought search for pieces of Aztec gold. The memory of that time still sent a chill up her back.

She knew she should spend the evening catching up on the rooming house accounts, but it would be pointless to try. Elizabeth closed her ledger's heavy cover and returned the quill to the ink pot. Although yarns of pirates and mythical adventures were nothing new to her, she found it impossible to ignore the captain's lilting, lyrical voice once he warmed to the telling of one of his fantastic tales.

Pushing away from her desk, Elizabeth stood and smoothed down her skirts before making her way over to where Hector and William sat before the crackling hearth. The fire wasn't strictly necessary – the temperature couldn't ever really be said to be cold in the Caribbean – but having a few logs lit and flickering in her sitting room always made her feel more at home. And it brought a small bit of comfort now, at Christmas, when she felt most nostalgic about her past life.

She settled herself into a soft armchair across from Barbossa and leaned back, crossing her ankles daintily as she looked at him. His face appeared softer in the glow of the fire, the golden light flattering his features and making him seem younger. His long hair was still damp from the bath she'd insisted he take upon his arrival, the wet auburn strands tickling his shoulders. Although he always protested the ritual when he landed on her doorstep every four months or thereabouts, he secretly enjoyed the luxury...or so she thought, if the contented humming she heard through the door as he soaked in the tub was any indication.

While he'd been busy scrubbing away months of filth, she'd gathered his odiferous clothes into a bundle and sneaked them down to the kitchen to launder them in a pot of boiling water. Although he'd grumbled when he discovered his garments missing, the new crisp white shirt and black breeches she'd provided in their stead suited him well. Barbossa would likely cringe to hear it, but he appeared almost respectable without all the well-worn finery in which he took such pride.

William was sitting tailor-style on the throw rug between her chair and Barbossa's, trying desperately to contain his eagerness. If only she could have the energy of an eight-year old, she thought as she ruffled his hair affectionately, how bright and shiny life would seem.

"It's a coin!" blurted William, reaching towards the grey disc of metal, dulled by age and the touch of many hands. Before the boy could get his fingers on it, though, Barbossa snatched it away and gave the lad a scowl.

"Aye, 'tis. But I was hopin' that ye'd be able to tell me a bit more than that…ain't yer mother always goin' on about how smart ye be?"

William tilted his chin defiantly in response. "I _am_ smart! But if you won't let me get a proper look at it, how can I tell you more? You're not playing fair, Captain."

Elizabeth smothered a grin behind her hand, disguising her snort of laughter with a light cough. Barbossa narrowed his gaze at her son and leaned forwards menacingly. "I see ye've inherited more than just yer mother's eyes, young lad. Ye be quick with yer wit as well." Although his words might have seemed harsh to anyone else, Elizabeth heard the affectionate warmth in Hector's voice.

Slowly, so as to prolong her son's torture, Barbossa extended his fist and opened his fingers to reveal the coin once more. William squinted in the dim light, 'though he didn't attempt to touch it again. "It's a British coin. _'Georgius…II…Dei Gratia.'_ And it says, _'Lima,_' too. Is it silver?"

A satisfied smirk crossed the pirate's face. "So 'tis, boy. And the silver was plundered from a Spanish ship near Lima by British privateers, so noted right there beneath the head o' the king. What yer seein' be a half crown, one of thousands that were part 'n parcel of the cargo of the ill-fated _Lady Lovibond_."

"Ill-fated?" William breathed, his eyes wide.

Barbossa eased back into his chair and slung one leg over the other, knowing that he already had William hooked. "T'was February 13, 1748, and Simon Peel, cap'n of that very fine three-masted schooner, decided to take hisself a wife. Now, despite what many might think, that weren't his worst mistake by far…" he continued, giving Elizabeth a sardonic grin meant to ridicule her own matrimonial state, "fer Cap'n Peel opted to tempt the gods and bring his new bride Annetta aboard the _Lady Lovibond_."

William shook his head in confusion. "What's wrong with that?"

"Yes, Captain," dared Elizabeth, crossing her arms over her chest. "What is wrong with that?" A smile quirked at the corner of her mouth and she had to bite her lip so she didn't break out into a grin. She lost count of the times she'd been welcomed aboard a ship…present company very much included.

Clutching at his heart with one hand, Barbossa looked in horror from Elizabeth to her son and back again. "Are ye daft? Ye can't be bringin' a _woman_ aboard! B'fore ye know it, all manner of discipline is lost, the men spend their time moonin' about…and besides all that, the very darkest of luck follows them as allows women on a vessel, wife or not! Can't imagine what kind of madman would dare attempt such a thing!"

Elizabeth laughed and rolled her eyes. For his part, William cocked his head like a dog hearing a distant whistle and regarded Barbossa sceptically. "But Mama sailed on a ship from England…"

"And I've heard tell that it was a member of the fairer sex who led the pirate fleet to victory against Cutler Beckett and his cut-throat mercenaries," she couldn't help but interject with a teasing grin. She might have kept her nefarious past hidden from her son, but she wasn't going to let the old pirate discount her entire gender without a challenge.

Barbossa huffed in mock indignation. "First off, yer mother was naught but a girl then, so that don't count. And second, as fer the rumours of a woman leading the most bloodthirsty of pirates – that ain't nothin' but a poppycock legend, born in the taverns of Tortuga and spouted by men who wouldn't know a female should one land in their laps. Now, ye gonna let me tell this terrible tale as I see fit, or are ye plannin' to pipe up and share yer opinion each time I open me mouth?" He slapped the coin into William's small hand and closed the boy's fingers tightly over the cool silver, giving him a stone-cold stare as he did so.

The boy clutched the token almost fearfully and edged backwards on the rug to be closer to his mother. "What happened to Captain Peel and his ship?" he prompted, grasping the hem of her skirt.

Bending forward in his chair, Barbossa lowered his voice to a growl. "What Peel didn't know was that his lovely new wife had already been courted by the first mate…a man by the name of Rivers. Now Rivers, he loved Annetta with all of his heart…but she had set her eye on a cap'n and would accept nothin' less fer a husband. Rivers was driven to a jealous rage when he saw his ladylove with Peel, dancin' and drinkin' and celebratin' their nuptials as they set sail for a honeymoon in Portugal. Her fickle heart drove her former lover wild with anger and Rivers decided that if he couldn't have her, then nobody would!"

"Sounds as if men are the _real_ problem aboard a ship," Elizabeth muttered under her breath, her comment earning almost identical hard looks from both Barbossa and her son.

"Mama! Don't interrupt!" William hissed, disappointment crossing his innocent face.

Elizabeth attempted to look chastened. "I'm sorry…you're right, darling. Apologies, Captain."

Barbossa inclined his head, indicating his acceptance of her dubious act of contrition, before turning his attention back to William. Inch by inch, Hector slowly drew his dagger from its sheath and held it up, examining the edge of the blade as it caught the gleam of the orange firelight. "As the newlyweds and their guests were waltzin' about below decks, Rivers crept up behind Peel and slit his throat, clean as ye please!" With those words, Barbossa made a swift cutting motion across his own neck with the knife, baring his teeth in a terrible grimace as he drew it from one ear to the other.

William gasped in joyful horror, holding onto the coin so tightly that Elizabeth was sure that King George the Second's face would be imprinted into his young flesh for days. "Captain," she said softly by way of warning, but Barbossa was far too caught up in his own story to notice.

"The planks beneath their feet were slick with Peel's blood, and the bride was screamin' in terror an' grief, clutchin' her beloved to her breast as his life ebbed away. But Rivers, he wasn't done…nay, not by far! With the passengers in a panic, the first mate climbed back aboveboard and cranked the wheel towards the notorious reefs of Goodwin Sands. Before anyone had the sense of mind to stop him, Rivers had dashed the _Lady Lovibond_ to pieces upon the rocks and left nary a survivor to tell the tale."

"Everyone was dead?" William whispered, swallowing hard. He crept slightly forward to better hear the pirate's response.

"Aye, the lot of 'em," said Barbossa, looking terribly solemn. "But not gone!" He abruptly sheathed his dagger and settled back into the padded leather of his wingback chair, gazing at the boy over long, steepled fingers.

"Were they ghosts, then?" the boy asked quietly, as if by speaking the word too loudly, he risked inviting the spirits into the confines of his own home. He pressed back against Elizabeth's legs, seeking the protection that only a mother's presence could offer. She laid her hand gently on his shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.

"When the moon is high in the sky and the chill of winter is upon the waters, more than one honest sailor has seen the phantom schooner appear," nodded Barbossa solemnly. "Glowing green in the mist and hell-bent fer the rocks, 'tis said that ye can hear the shrieks of fear from the weddin' guests and Annetta alike. Rivers, Peel and the lovely bride, eternally damned to live that moment of envy and love gone awry again and again!"

William looked at the bit of silver in awe. "Where did you get the coin, Captain? Was there a whole chest full of them?"

Barbossa slowly shook his head from side to side. "Just that one was recovered, lad, clutched tightly in the skeletal fingers of one of the wedding guests. Matter of fact, t'was yer _father_ as found it – and he as wanted ye to have it."

Elizabeth's gasped at the unexpected revelation. "That's not amusing, Captain Barbossa!" she snapped. The warmth had gone out of the evening in a heartbeat and no amount of fuel on the fire would bring it back. Not once since he'd sailed away had Will Turner made any kind of contact, and she thought it extremely unlikely that he'd chosen Barbossa as a bearer of gifts – or that Will would send such a grisly souvenir to the boy, providing he was even aware that she'd given birth eight years earlier.

Hector's unrepentant blue gaze shifted to her. "Weren't tryin' fer a joke, Missus Turner. And while the tale be grim, surely ye'd not deprive the boy of a gift from his sire?"

"Mama! A gift from Papa!" William was on his feet, unable to hold back his excitement any longer. His warm brown eyes sparkled brightly and he jumped in place. "Maybe he knows how much I love ghost stories and that's why he sent this! Isn't that right, Captain Barbossa?"

Elizabeth stood abruptly, her shoulders tight with tension. "William," she cut in, trying to keep her voice calm and steady, "now that you've had your story, I want you to wash up and go to bed."

"Noooo...I want to hear some more about the _Lady Lovibond_!" whined her son, giving her the pleading look that so often caused her resolve to waver. It wasn't going to work tonight, though.

Before she could rebuke William for his petulance, Barbossa spoke up. "Yer to mind yer ma, boy. 'Tis what yer da would want from ye."

William grinned sheepishly, his enthusiasm for his prize outweighing his disappointment at an early bedtime. "Sorry, Mama. Good night, Captain. And thank you for the story...and the coin. It's the best Christmas present I ever got!"

Elizabeth glared darkly at Barbossa before following her elated son up the stairs, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. After ensuring that he cleaned his teeth carefully and washed behind his ears, she tucked the boy into his downy feather bed and kissed him softly on his forehead, determined not to let him see her distress.

When she reached the door, she turned down the lamp and looked back at her beautiful son, her heart breaking at the happiness a single coin had brought him. Even as he yawned and his eyelids began to droop, William clutched the half crown tightly in his little fist, no doubt already beginning to dream of high seas and ghostly galleons.

Slowly she descended the stairs to confront Hector. Although she suspected he'd said what he did in an effort to make William happy, the gesture was misguided to say the least. Once William's excitement wore off, believing that Will had sent a gift would only make the absence in his young life more keenly felt…and she would be the one left to try to explain and comfort him.

Barbossa was still ensconced in front of the fire, his long legs stretched out before him and his boots crossed as the shadows cast by the flames danced around him. "Is the boy asleep?"

Elizabeth stopped at the threshold to the sitting room, leaning her cheek against the cool wood of the door jamb. "How could you do that? How could you bring him a gift and let him believe that Will sent it? It will only hurt him more when he realizes it isn't true," she chided sadly, upset that he would dare raise false hopes in her son's heart.

He twisted his head around sharply but stopped short of meeting her eyes. "Never once said the present was from Will Turner," he snarled over his shoulder. "Told him it came from his father, didn't I? No word of a lie there."

The bottom dropped out of her stomach, her vision swam, and for a moment Elizabeth wasn't sure she would be able to remain on her feet. She stumbled over to the desk and slumped into her chair, her legs feeling suddenly boneless. "How...how did you know?"

Hector stood and strode over to her, his angry steps snapping against the wooden floor. "I ain't dim-witted, 'Lizabeth. Long have I known the boy to be mine –ye need but look at him to see the truth! Even if there weren't such resemblance, t'was I as took yer maidenhead when ye came to me that night before the battle and so far as I can tell, dead men father no offspring. That's what Turner really is, ye understand...just as I was not entirely human when the curse was upon me, so yer husband ceased to be truly alive when his heart was carved from his chest. The two of ye might have had a honeymoon that one day on the beach, but it sure as Hades wasn't Will Turner as planted a child in yer belly!"

Had she been standing, his pronouncement would have driven her to her knees. Finally it all made sense –his frequent visits to Bridgetown, the countless hours he spent with them, the obvious affection he showed William. Doubtless, he'd heard rumours of a young woman, alone and pregnant, settling in the small Barbados town and had tracked her down. And to think that she had flattered herself into believing that there might have been more to his sojourns than just a chance to share stories with William. Being proven wrong in her assumption made her feel like a fool...and hurt far more than it should have.

Elizabeth had always known in her heart that her son did not possess a single drop of Turner blood. The curve of his smile, the way he squinted in the sunlight, his quick temper – those and a dozen other characteristics were far too reminiscent of Barbossa for her to pretend otherwise. She had managed to convince herself that it didn't really matter, though. Once Will returned, they'd be a family and she'd take the secret to her grave. It had, after all, only been one moment of weakness before she'd taken her wedding vows. One couldn't even call it faithlessness, not really – she and Will hadn't yet been married when she' been seized by fear and loneliness, and had taken it upon herself to seduce Barbossa. It had meant nothing more than a refuge for her and a release for the pirate captain.

"If you've known for so long, why wait until now to speak out?" she asked, resting her elbows on the desk and burying her face in her hands as tears threatened. "If you seek to punish me for my secrecy..."

Hector turned away from her and stalked back to the hearth, leaning on the mantle as he stared down into the fire. "Figured if I gave ye enough time and showed that I care fer ye and the boy, ye'd summon a wee bit of courage and divulge it on yer own. But instead ye've chosen to delude yerself and him both, and I've no more patience fer such. Oh, don't ye fret," he added bitterly. "Ye needn't worry that I'll be tellin' tales about ye. I just wanted to give the boy somethin' as would remind him of me, even if he ne'er knows the truth of who I be. A farewell gift, if ye will. When the_Pearl_ sails at daybreak, I'll be puttin' me rudder to Bridgetown fer good."

Elizabeth suddenly felt sick with disbelief. "You're not coming back? Why?"

His head jerked up and he fixed her with glare so heated that it made her cringe. "Can ye really be so blind as all that? Tell me, girl - ye heard the legend of the _Lady Lovibond_, but did ye listen? Did it not occur to ye that ye might be the bride and I the first mate, forced to watch ye dance with one unworthy of yer devotion? Will Turner put everythin' else before ye...and yet ye have eyes only fer him, so badly do ye want the fairytale life he once promised ye! Too well can I understand why Rivers did what he did!"

"But he's my husband..." she stammered before the core of what he was saying to her sank in. It hadn't been just for William's sake that he'd come so often to Barbados...

"Yet 'tis _I_ as has made me way here to ye time and again, crossing storm-tossed seas and fightin' impossible odds, ain't it? 'Tis _I_ as has extended me protection to ye and kept ye safe from them as might act against ye...and 'tis _I_ as stayed silent while _me own son_ shared with me tales of his long-lost father. But none of that has touched ye...still ye sit and wait fer the day that Will Turner rejoins ye, and ye can't even see that which is right before ye! Bad enough that all that should be mine belongs to him; I'll not stand by and watch this lie play itself out another hour!"

He stormed past her and made for the front door, the sound of his boots like pistol shots. Finally, the understanding that he really did mean to walk out of her life forever spurred her into action. Gathering her skirts in her hands, she chased after him. Catching up to him just as he retrieved his baldric and weapons from the hook by the door, she snatched hold of his shirt sleeve and held on tightly. "No! Please, Hector...I don't want you to go!" Her heart thundered against her ribs and she felt as though she had been dropped into some terrible waking nightmare. She couldn't lose him, not now!

He rounded on her and instead of the rage she expected to see on his face, Elizabeth found herself shocked at the depth of the torment marring his rugged features. "Oh, aye...yer content to have me here so long as there be no better offer...no Cap'n Peel on the horizon, so to speak," he hissed. "But after so many years, 'Lizabeth, I've naught left to give ye. Find yerself another fool to fill the hours 'til yer beloved Will returns!"

Yanking his arm loose from her grip, Hector roughly pushed past her. Elizabeth watched as he gradually disappeared into the evening gloom and she stood helpless as her world collapsed around her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 - The Heart Laid Bare**

_Same evening, continued..._

Stars were strewn across a black velvet sky and the full moon beamed down upon them as Elizabeth and William made their way down the treacherous, rock-laden path towards the beach. Thank goodness, she thought, that she'd had the foresight to abandon her cumbersome skirts in favour of a pair of worn breeches and soft kid boots she'd kept from her days at sea. Even though they were both dressed for the terrain, the loose pebbles on the trail caused their footing to slip unexpectedly from time to time, prompting Elizabeth to keep a tight grip on the back of William's coat so he'd not end up tumbling arse over teakettle down the hill.

"Just a little further," she softly reassured her weary son as they scrambled ever closer to their destination. From their vantage point halfway down the rocky incline, Elizabeth could see the deck lamps of the _Black Pearl_ from where it was anchored just off shore. The tiny lights glowed orange amber, beacons of hope in the darkness of the night.

When they finally stumbled from the path onto the shore, all was quiet save for the low tide breaking against the rocks. A gentle breeze blew across her face and the fragrance of the ocean brought with it a thousand glorious memories of times spent upon the waves. The irresistible call of the sea was something Elizabeth had tried to ignore once she began a life ashore for herself and William, but it had never really left her. It was true that the sea could be a hateful, dangerous, and frightening thing at times...but still, she'd never felt more at home than she had on a ship. It was yet one more part of her past that she'd missed more than she realized.

"Where is he, Mama?" William asked, his voice small and worried. He clutched the bundle of clothes he'd brought tightly against his chest and looked around fretfully.

Poor little dear, she thought as she brushed her fingers through the silky hair that stuck out from beneath William's hat. His well-ordered world had been turned on its head and all because she lacked the backbone to share the truth from the very start.

For as long as he'd been able to ask questions about his father, Elizabeth told her son that Will was a ship's captain whose grand adventures at sea kept him far from his family, though he missed them dreadfully and would return as soon as he possibly could. It was the same vague lie she'd told the villagers in Bridgetown and never had she doubted the wisdom of her elaborate illusion until Hector confronted her.

After Barbossa's angry departure, she'd dashed up the stairs and rousted William from his warm, cozy bed, finally confessing to her son that the man he'd thought to be his father wasn't…and the man whom he had grown to love and admire was. At first, his small face had crumpled in disbelief at the revelation, and Elizabeth hated herself with shocking intensity for ever deceiving him. It was patently cruel and unfair to burden her child with such startling news, never mind in the middle of the night, but she had failed him for too long already and it was time to right the wrongs. As she'd helped William quickly tug on his clothes, he grew less distressed and more intrigued that his father had, in fact, been part of his life all along. She knew then that she would subject herself to any humiliation…any agony…any hardship…to ensure that William had the opportunity to share what remained of his childhood with Hector.

"I don't know, darling." Elizabeth replied as she held aloft her small oil lantern and anxiously scanned the beach. The shortcut they'd chosen wasn't one that most sane people would attempt in the darkness, even beneath the gleam of the moon. She had been certain that Hector had taken the road through town, but perhaps he'd been upset enough to navigate the same narrow trail they'd risked and was already on board the _Pearl_. Despair welled up within her as the prospect of having acted too late sank in.

Elizabeth was wondering if she could acquire a small boat back at the main dock and make her way out to the _Pearl_ in time when she caught a flash of white out of the corner of her eye. As she turned to peer through the purple shadows cast by the coconut palms further down the shore, she saw it again…and recognized Hector by the bright new shirt she'd given him to wear. "Look!" she whispered excitedly, pointing him out to William. "There he is!"

Hopeful anticipation wiped away the fatigue on her son's face and he would have gone running to Barbossa had she not lain a firm hand on his shoulder to stop him. He looked up in confusion at his mother, and Elizabeth shook her head and held a finger to her lips. "You must let me speak to him first, William," she said, bending over to murmur quietly against his ear as she handed him the lantern. "Promise me that you'll stay put until I either call for you or return."

Her son was crestfallen but nodded reluctantly, turning from her to fix his teary gaze on the _Black Pearl_. She hoped he was retreating into his youthful imagination and replaying the hundreds of stories he'd heard about the infamous pirate ship throughout his life. Anything but dwelling on why his mother would have lied to him in the first place. That was an explanation that would take years for him to truly understand.

Elizabeth's first impulse was the same as her son's – to sprint down the beach – but she forced herself to walk instead, purposefully striding across the sodden sand. She had to speak not only for William's sake, but for her own as well. It wasn't just her son's paternity that she'd tried to keep hidden from Barbossa, but her own deeply buried feelings too.

Hector was occupied digging his gig out from where he'd hidden it in the bushes and he didn't notice her approach until she was almost beside him. "I'm glad I found you before you cast off," she said hesitantly, hugging her arms around herself in an effort to stave off the chill from the water. He gave her a resentful glare but didn't speak, silently tossing aside the palm fronds he'd used to camouflage his boat.

Elizabeth swallowed hard and rubbed at her cool skin. "I don't blame you for not wanting to talk to me…after the way I misled both you and William, I deserve nothing less. But there's something you need to know before you go."

"Save yer breath," Barbossa snarled, looping the line between his hand and elbow and tugging the boat across the sand towards the water. The fabric of his shirt rippled in the breeze and strands of loose hair blew across his face, hiding his expression. "There's nothin' ye could say as would sway me now."

As well earned as his hostility was, the unkind words still cut her to the quick. But if she was to be condemned thereafter, it wouldn't be for holding back the truth. "Will isn't coming back!" she blurted, her voice breaking with the sudden release of pent-up emotion. "Not ever!"

Hector's head snapped up and he gaped at her in astonishment. The length of rope hung slack in his hands, his retreat to the _Pearl_ forgotten for the moment. "And how do ye figure that?"

Her heart thudded so hard that if felt as if it were working its way up her throat. It was one thing to know it…it was quite another to admit it out loud. "Before he left me, Will said that Calypso had struck a bargain with him. If he served for ten years aboard the _Dutchman_, she would release him from his duties…provided that, after all that time, I still loved him and had remained faithful in body and heart. But I broke the accord and in so doing, I… I doomed him to an eternity at sea, ferrying souls to the next world."

"Ye didn't break it on account of me!" he shouted indignantly, his initial surprise at her statement giving way to anger once more. "Ye weren't yet married when I partook of yer charms."

"Yes, it was on your account, you obstinate, pig-headed buffoon!" she yelled back, her temper rising to meet his. "Were you not listening? I said, 'body and _heart_,' didn't I?"

"And what might ye mean by that?"

She exhaled sharply in exasperation. "When I first settled in Bridgetown, I used to take a walk every evening to the western cliffs and look out over the waves, hoping to catch sight of sails where the sky meets the sea. And I would pray that I'd see the tattered canvas of the _Flying Dutchman_ coming into view, even though I knew that wasn't possible."

"A touchin' sentiment, to be sure," Hector sneered, pulling the line taut once again and dragging the boat a few more feet through the sea grass.

Elizabeth scrambled in front of him and blocked his path, crossing her arms over her chest. "Then one evening, shortly after William marked his second birthday, all of my waiting finally paid off. It wasn't the _Dutchman_ that appeared out of the west, though, but another vessel altogether...a ship so close to my heart that it was like seeing a part of home again."

"Out of me way, girl," he cautioned tetchily, seemingly untouched by what she was trying to tell him.

Stubbornly planting her feet even more firmly in the sand, she stood her ground. If he wanted to get past her, he'd either have to push her aside or wait until she finished talking. "Every time you arrived at my door, every hour you spent in our company, Will was forced a little further from my thoughts... and when I was alone, it was you that I missed, your company I longed to share. Not Will's, _yours_! I still go to the western cliffs to gaze into the sunset and every time I do, I pray that I'll spot black sails coming over the horizon. Don't you see? I might not have taken you to my bed these many years, Hector, but in my heart I've sinned against my husband a thousand times!"

Sighing unsteadily, she turned from him before he could respond and walked to the water's edge. The moonlight caught the crests of each wave and made it seem as though the sea was spilling forth with diamonds. Was Will looking out over the water, too, and counting the days until he believed they could be together again? Or had he known of her betrayal for years? Maybe the slowly beating heart that she kept so carefully hidden had shattered long ago.

Barbossa approached her and stood close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body through the thin material of her clothes. "If ye were so sure that Turner was lost, why did ye keep the truth from me?" he asked quietly.

"Because I thought if I pretended hard enough, then I could spare Will from having to endure such a fate," Elizabeth replied, the stars above blurring as her eyes brimmed with tears. "If I tamped down my desires and kept silent, if I told myself that it was enough to have you share our life in some small way, then maybe..."

Powerful arms enfolded her into a strong embrace and she leaned back against Hector, closing her eyes as she savoured the feeling of being held. It had been so long...so very long...since a man had shown her such tenderness that it was all she could do to hold back a sob of relief. "Ye take on too great a burden," he murmured, nuzzling against her temple. "The heart wants what it wants...'tis no sin to be true to yerself."

"Yet the result is the same," she answered miserably, bringing her hands up to rest over his, determined to prolong the closeness. "He belongs to Calypso now...forever part of her world."

"Huh," Hector said as though deep in contemplation. He stood silent for a while and she was content to do the same. The guilt would always be there but for just a few minutes, she wanted to leave reality behind and relish what comfort he could offer. "I wonder..." he said slowly, puzzling something out in his head. "'Lizabeth, what were the exact words the goddess spoke when she brokered the deal with Turner?"

She frowned. "I wasn't there but as he told it, she said that if his wife remained constant in her love for him, body and heart, while he was aboard the _Flying Dutchman_, then he'd be set free after ten years had passed."

"_Wife_? She used that word? 'Tis important..." There was a cautious optimism in his voice that prompted her to turn in his arms and face him.

"Yes, that's what he said...and I assume what she said too. Why?"

He smiled sadly and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. "One must be careful of the wordin' when strikin' a bargain with eldritch creatures...tricksters, the lot of them. The goddess ne'er had any intention of releasin' Turner from his bonds, and nothin' ye did would ever have brought him back to ye."

Elizabeth gasped, shaking her head in disbelief. "No! That's not right! I told you what he agreed to..."

He held her by her shoulders and ducked down so he could look deeply into her eyes. "T'was after I married ye to him that Turner was struck down by Jones. The lad was _dead_, Elizabeth, no matter what happened afterward. Whether ye'd taken a lover or not...whether ye'd found love or remained ferever alone... t'would have made no difference. When yer husband died, the matrimonial bond was severed. Yer not a wife, yer a _widow_."

"But why would she do that? Why promise to free him at all if it was always her plan to bind him to the _Dutchman_?" she sputtered.

"A compliant captive always be better than one ye must bend to yer will," Hector said. "And perhaps she thought that if she had ten years in his good graces, she could win his heart away from ye and he'd stay of his own volition. 'Course, he'll know she deceived him if he still wishes to return once the decade passes, but like all deities, she be vain...thinkin' it impossible that he'll be able to resist her."

Elizabeth trembled in rage. "Then Will and I...we never even stood a chance! It was all a lie! She's...she's monstrous!"

"Cruel though she likely seems, might be she did it out of a desire fer love," he suggested calmly. "Remember...not so many years have passed since ye thought _me_ the monster and yet here we be."

Her anger drained away as he spoke. He looked so uncertain for a moment and with no good cause. "Before I knew better, perhaps," she whispered, caressing the coarse hair of his beard. "Before you let me see the man you really are."

"Ye'd do well to keep in mind, lass, that 'tis a pirate as stands before ye," Hector warned her, his broad hands spreading over the small of her back and pressing her against him. "There be a bit of the monster remainin'...one whose hungers have grown ravenous after so much time."

She felt a faint twinge of guilt as her body eagerly responded, Hector's simple touch instantly setting her blood afire and making her knees quake. Calypso meant to keep Will for herself, though, and that understanding freed Elizabeth from a terrible weight on her soul. "I would not love you so well if you were anything but," she replied breathily, bestowing the gentlest of kisses on Hector's parted lips. He moaned deep in his throat and drew her closer, ravishing her mouth in needful desperation and the tempered desires of too many years.

Through the haze of her arousal, it gradually surfaced in Elizabeth's fevered consciousness that her son was waiting patiently down the beach, likely wondering what had happened to his mother. It took all the willpower she possessed, but she pushed hard on Hector's chest until she was able to break the kiss that had very nearly left her faint. "Wait...stop," she panted, cradling his face in her hands and resting her forehead against his while she caught her breath. "There is all the time in the world for this, but first I have something for you. You left your clothes behind and so I've brought them back, clean and folded..."

"Won't have a need fer such soon," he groaned, his hands gliding over her hips and tugging her roughly against him so she could feel for herself the hot urgency of his desire. "Ye have but one thin' I be wantin'."

Elizabeth moaned but didn't give in. "No," she said, tearing free from his grasp and stumbling away on shaky legs. "It's Christmas Eve. Think of it as a gift, if you prefer. You can't deny me that."

"Fine...fine! Whate'er it takes. But ye'll pay later fer further delayin' me when I've gone so long already." He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees and trying to bring himself under control. "I'll have me own sort of gift fer ye then."

She grinned and straightened her blouse before she turned back towards where she knew her son stood. "William!" Elizabeth hollered, looking over her shoulder at Hector and giving him an enigmatic smile. He gazed back at her, his brow knitting in confusion, and she laughed in jubilant expectation. "Come here, son...bring forth those clothes and return them to your father!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 - Promise Given, Promise Kept**

By the time the three of them found their way back up the steep, cobbled street that led to the Cats Castle Rooming House, William was barely able to keep up. Despite the excitement of the night's events – or more likely, because of it – the wind had finally gone out of the little boy's sails and he stumbled about like a drunken sailor, so close was he to falling asleep on his feet. When they were still a few blocks away from home, Hector scooped their son up in mid-step and settled the exhausted child into the crook of his arm. With a yawn, William laid his head on Hector's shoulder and gradually drifted off, lulled by the sure, steady tempo of his father's gait.

The sight was unexpectedly poignant, and Elizabeth's throat ached as she fought back tears. Although Hector had taken pains to make the gesture seem casual, she wasn't fooled…in all the years that he'd been coming to Barbados, it was as close as he'd ever come to embracing William. The fact that William had accepted it so trustingly – so naturally – spoke volumes about the strength of the growing bond between the pair.

She had been wilfully blind. Blind to Hector's pain, to her son's needs, to the truth in her own heart. Perhaps her naïveté could have been excused ten years earlier – she knew she'd been a callow girl despite her best attempts to appear bold and worldly before the Brethren. But maintaining the lies as time passed had been a deliberate choice she'd made, knowing full well that she was wrong to do so.

Elizabeth glanced over at Hector again, her heart clenching at the look of quiet pride on his face as he cradled his slumbering child. Perhaps it wasn't fair that she was being given a second chance; certainly no one deserved it less. But that didn't mean she was fool enough to let it slip away again. Once they were back home and William put to bed, she would show her man exactly what he meant to her...and in a way that would leave no question as to the depth of her feelings.

Almost as though he could sense her thoughts, Hector looked over and caught her gaze with his. Even in the darkness, she could see the heated promise of passion in his eyes and it brought rushing back another promise he'd made to her, on that single night they'd shared so long ago…

* * *

_Elizabeth peered into her stein, the remnants of the thick ale now nothing more than a pale brown sludge at the bottom. She'd imbibed far more than she'd ever dared before, but it still hadn't been nearly enough to calm her nerves._

All around her, the crews from the various pirate vessels joined in frantic revelry, drinking, singing, and fighting in equal measure. There was something forced about the raucous bellows of laughter that rang through the hall, though...the spectre of imminent death loomed overhead, pointedly ignored but nevertheless making itself felt within the hearts and minds of those gathered. It was almost as though they believed that if they made enough noise and pursued every vice to excess, the cold, impartial finger of doom might settle elsewhere.

It was, of course, pure delusion. Elizabeth grabbed the flagon and slopped yet more ale into her cup. If it was true that Beckett had tracked them to Shipwreck Cove, his forces would by far outnumber the meagre number of pirates standing against him. Who was she, though, to begrudge them a bit of larking about when they were in need of a little cheer? Was her way any better? Sitting alone in the corner, downing pint after pint of wretched brew and longing for a past so distant that it hardly seemed to have happened at all...pathetic, really.

No, these men knew what they were doing. Life had always been an uncertain thing for them; it was their way to snatch what little joy they could when the opportunity presented itself. Given the reception that Beckett would likely give them in the morning, it might very well be their final chance.

She sipped at her drink, licking the yeasty foam from her upper lip as she glanced around the room. The hall in which they'd held the Brethren Court hours earlier was literally packed to the rafters; some of the younger pirates were dangling their legs from seats on the high, dark beams above as they watched the crowd stagger about the tight, humid space. Music from a fiddle and squeezebox could be heard over the din, a simple shanty that grew in volume as it was taken up by enthusiastically off-key, drunken voices. The smell of sweat and rum permeated the thick air, a heavy, masculine scent by now so familiar to her that she wondered if she would miss it when her journey finally came to an end.

Her heart sank at the thought. What awaited her when the fight was done? Perhaps like so many of those who surrounded her, she'd not live to see the blazing glory of another sunset. If Beckett prevailed and she somehow survived the day, she would be a captive, and it would only be a matter of time before she would be forced to take the long, slow climb up the steps to the gallows alongside her comrades where, as Norrington once commented to her so long ago, she could expect a short drop and a sudden stop.

And yet if the pirates somehow defeated Lord Beckett's fleet, against all odds, she still faced uncertainty. She and Will were outlaws; there was no going back to their lives in Port Royal, no exoneration awaiting them in England. Worse again, the prospect of this bleak future was something she'd quite likely have to face alone. There was no knowing where Will Turner was now, or with whom he conspired, or what his plans were, or if anything of his feelings for her remained. Although his quest to save his father had started as a righteous one, she was no longer confident that it remained so. Life had become very blurred with too many shades of grey and they'd lost one another somewhere in the midst of it.

Intent on numbing herself enough to drive her troubling thoughts into retreat, Elizabeth reached for more ale but frowned as she watched the last dregs dribble into her cup. If she wanted more, she'd have to get it herself, a daunting prospect considering the crush of inebriated humanity between herself and the casks. Perhaps it would more prudent to turn in and attempt to find whatever restless sleep she could.

No one would miss her if she did leave, she knew. Mistress Ching had been decidedly correct when she said that Shipwreck Cove was a well-supplied fortress; every possible need was anticipated and that included female companionship. Whores wove their way through the gathered pirates, anxious to accommodate any hungry-looking man with a few coins in his pocket. With such buxom and willing company readily available, it was little wonder she'd not received more than a passing glance over the course of the entire evening.

Not that she wanted that kind of attention from this rabble. It was better, really, that they saw her as a fellow captain and not as a potential conquest. But she had to admit that it wounded her pride that there was not even one among them who would seek her out for so much as a shared drink and a bit of conversation.

A bark of bitter laughter escaped her lips. Now who was clinging to delusion? Her feelings were bruised because in a room chock-full of men, none had found her appealing enough to even try to approach her. Even Jack Sparrow, vile and dissolute creature that he was, hadn't so much as looked her way since the Brethren Court dispersed. She wouldn't have succumbed to his dubious charms, certainly, but a friendly word or two would have been more than welcome. Of course, there was that little matter of her having left him, chained and helpless, at the mercy of the Kraken; she was forced to admit that such a thing might well cure a man of any lingering desires.

She cradled her head in her hands, her elbows resting on the pitted, sticky table. She'd had it right the first time – she was pathetic. Drinking only made her more maudlin and moreover, if she continued, the after-effects would leave her ill-equipped to deal with the battle that awaited them all in the morning. It was time to depart quietly with what little dignity she had left.

The floor seemed to shift slightly as she stood, the liquor having robbed her of more of her senses than she had noticed. Shutting her eyes, Elizabeth took a few deep breaths and found her balance again. Feeling slightly more stable, she set off across the floor, elbowing her way through the writhing mass of bodies towards the door.

The short journey took far longer than it should, and by the time she'd finally forced her way through the last boisterous tangle of men, her arms were sore and her shins battered from being inadvertently jostled and kicked. Her foot had been stepped on hard enough that frustrated tears swam in her eyes and she stank of grog that had been carelessly spilled down the front of her vest. Cursing under her breath and clenching her hands in tight, angry fists, Elizabeth stumbled out the door and onto the deck of the Consolación, _the wrecked Spanish galleon that served both as the haven's hall and court._

The air was lighter and definitely less rank outside, and taking deep breaths, Elizabeth tilted her head back to gaze up through the gaping mouth of the crater and into a small patch of night, black as pitch. As her eyes became accustomed to the lack of light, she could see a handful of stars sparkling faintly above. Such peaceful beauty on the verge of tremendous peril, she thought as she wandered over to the gunwale. If only it could bring some tranquility to her heart, however fleeting.

Hundreds of tiny lanterns glowed dimly from the towering wrecks surrounding them, forming new constellations within the gloomy cavern. Bits of uneven melody that escaped the hall bounced off the walls around her, fading until they were little more than haunting echoes.

The door suddenly bumped open behind her and for a few seconds, the sounds of laughter and music swelled again. She turned to see Captain Barbossa with a plump painted lady hanging on his arm, a bottle of wine in his fist and a wicked grin on his face. Elizabeth tried to shrink back into the shadows without being noticed, but she should have known better than to even try. As Barbossa caught sight of her, his grin widened and he bowed as best he could with the tittering doxy clinging to him.

"A good evenin' to ye, Cap'n Swann," he said solemnly, though his smile didn't waver for a moment. If he'd been drinking already, she couldn't tell it from either his voice or his rather regal bearing.

"And to you, Captain Barbossa," she answered formally, and with just a slight slur from the ale she'd been drinking. "Calling it an evening already?"

"Jus' movin' the party elsewhere, luvvie," crooned the whore before he could answer, smoothing her hand possessively over Barbossa's forearm. She appraised Elizabeth with a haughty glance. "Don't usually cotton to women, but ye could join us if ye've a care…mind, though, I'll hafta be chargin' fer two."

"Thank you, no," Elizabeth replied, unable to keep her lip from curling in disgust at the offer. She found herself more than a little disturbed at the way Barbossa's eyes glittered upon hearing the suggestion and she gave him a withering look as a reward. "I do believe that you're more than enough woman for one man to handle."

"Are you callin' me 'fat', then?!" the woman gasped, her crimson lips forming an astonished 'o' and her eyes bulging wide. She yanked on Barbossa's arm and screeched up into his smirking face. "Here, now…ye gonna let that scrawny bit of twat talk to me like that?!"

His smile abruptly faded and his eyes grew cold. "'Tis ye that be out of line now. That there's a pirate lord, elected King of the Brethren Court this very night. And more of a lady than ye could ever claim to be, at that. Ain't right fer ye to be disrespectin' her in such a way."

"What? Did ye not hear what she said 'bout me? Ye said that I was as lovely and lithe a creature as ye've ever seen, and here ye are, takin' her side ag'in me! And to think I gave ye me fairest price on account of yer fine clothes 'n all!"

He pried her hands off of his arm and stepped away from her, his lips set in a grim line. "Perhaps ye'd best be seekin' out another as would better enjoy yer company, Marguerite. I find me appetites have waned."

The spurned whore snorted with affronted pride and planted her fists on her ample hips. "Well, fine! I leave ye to her, then, and to hell with both of ye! Won't have to go too far to find meself a young 'un with a bit o' coin as will appreciate me fer all me charms, and ye, sir, can resort to bringin' yerself off!" She whirled around, shoved the tavern door open, and glowered at Barbossa. "Yer no kinda gentleman anyhow!"

Barbossa laughed roughly and waved her off. "Ye've a long search ahead of ye if that's what yer lookin' fer, harpy! Ain't gentlemen as avail themselves of such hospitality as ye have to offer!"

With one final huff, Marguerite stomped off to rejoin the festivities, leaving Elizabeth and Barbossa in relative quiet. He walked over and sighed heavily as he leaned on the gunwale beside her.

"I…I thank you for your gallantry, Captain," she said, humbled and not just a bit surprised that he had defended her honour. "I should have exercised some of the manners with which I was raised and simply kept my opinions to myself. It seems that I have ruined your…plans for the evening. Perhaps there is another…"

He shook his head, smiling ruefully at the ships anchored in the harbor beneath them. "Don't ye be thinkin' on it - ain't no loss. Truth be told, I ain't e'er been one fer payin' fer me pleasure. 'Tis the thrill of the chase, so to speak, as makes it worth the prize. Seduction be wasted when the company comes cheap…me heart weren't really in it."

Elizabeth grinned mischievously at him. "I don't think she was after your heart."

Barbossa chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling in the faint light as he glanced slyly at her. He clutched the small silk bag that hung at his side and jangled the coins within it. "Greatly interested in the considerable heft of me purse, she was, and very little in me more impressive assets."

She let out a burst of laughter and instantly felt better. Loneliness had become such a constant companion that she'd forgotten how enjoyable simple conversation could be, even with a man who had entered her life as a much-feared enemy. "Her loss, I'm sure," she responded with a reassuring pat to his arm.

He arched an eyebrow at her as he noticed the dark stains splashed across the front of her shirt. "Ye might try drinkin' yer liquor rather than wearin' it, missy. Tends to have a more upliftin' effect that way,"

"Trust me, there's almost as much in me as on me," Elizabeth confessed sheepishly, dabbing self-consciously at her sodden clothes.

"If yer of a mind to change, I might be able to accommodate ye. As chance would have it, I've a stunnin' gown in me quarters that I'd wager is just about the right size fer ye."

She smiled, knowing exactly which dress he meant. "You've kept it on board the Pearl_ all this time?"_

Barbossa frowned thoughtfully. "T'was there last time I looked. 'Course, that was before I was dead and the Pearl_ stolen away. Unless Jack took to wearin' it hisself while he pranced about in the Locker, it should be where I left it." He popped the cork from the bottle of wine and took a quick swig. "Not that I'd be puttin' it past him, mind ye…"_

"Well, let's just hope he didn't stretch the shoulders out too much," she quipped, holding her hand out for the wine. He passed it over and eyed her appraisingly as she tilted the bottle back and drank deeply. Elizabeth closed her eyes for a heartbeat, savouring the delicious warmth as it trickled down her throat.

"Tell me, girl," he asked gently. "What are ye doin' here?"

Elizabeth shrugged and returned the bottle. "What, out on deck? I'd just had enough of the racket inside, is all." There was no reason to trot out her anxieties; she feared Barbossa might think her a coward and for some reason, it was important to her that he at least believed her to be brave. She had, after all, openly challenged him before the Brethren…how would it look if she unveiled her doubts before him now?

"Don't blame ye fer that, but that ain't what I meant. I'm askin' why on earth ye'd follow us here to Shipwreck Cove."

The question puzzled her. "I'd have thought that obvious. This is where we are gathering to fight for our freedom. Where else would I be?"

He took another slug of wine, licking the last drops from his lips as he turned to face her. "Ye had a ship and a crew. Ye could have sailed back to England, made yer case before the King and let him know of Beckett's crimes…restored yer good name and reputation. Comin' here, steppin' into the breach – that there was just foolishness."

She blinked hard, taken aback. "You of all people know what has been taken from me…and what more we will lose if he's allowed to go unchallenged! Is it foolish to stand against a tyrant and show the courage of one's convictions?"

"Is that what yer pretendin' this be?" he snorted, tossing the empty bottle to the side. "A grand and noble cause? Figured ye had more brains than to try and feed me that kind of nonsense."

So much for soothing her troubled spirits, she thought as her temper began to simmer. "We all have our own motives for confronting Beckett and the Company, Captain Barbossa. Who are you to say that mine are any less sound than whatever yours might be?"

"There be only one reason why ye rejoined our ranks, why yer so determined to go to war tomorrow." He glanced knowingly from beneath the shadowy brim of his hat. "Ye might have fooled them other pirate lords, but I know what 'tis ye seek."

Elizabeth puffed out her chest indignantly. "I seek justice! Lord Cutler Beckett will die for what he did to my father, for what happened to James…."

"I think ye came back with a thought to dyin' yerself, Miss Swann. Ye wish to fall in battle."

She gasped, the breath rushing from her lungs as though she'd been punched in the gut. "Don't be ludicrous! I came to see Beckett pay for his sins, whatever it takes…"

"Aye, that's the plan, ain't it?" Barbossa said with certainty. "Ye'll take up yer blade and throw yerself into the fray, but ye'll be chasing death rather than fendin' it off. Paintin' yerself the heroine of the tale, the tragic figure who gives her life fer the greater good. Ye figure yer father would be proud of that?"

"Yes, he would!" she nearly shouted. She didn't want to hear any more. Who was Hector Barbossa, of all people, to pass judgment on her? "He would want me to fight the good fight, regardless of the cost!"

"Yer wrong," he answered sadly. "He died, as did Norrington, so that ye might survive. Ye spit on their sacrifice when ye throw yer life away so senselessly."

His reproach wounded her more deeply than she'd have believed possible. Elizabeth turned away, trying to hide the angry tears welling in her eyes. "What in God's name would you have me do, then? Cower in a corner while everyone around me exacts vengeance on my behalf?"

"Nay. Know ye well enough to understand that ye'd not shirk yer duties, not with yer men takin' yer lead. But I'd see ye have a care fer yer own life, girl…don't ye go makin' the Company's task any easier. There's no glory to be had in throwin' yerself upon the enemy's sword."

Elizabeth hung her head, sorrow displacing her anger. "Would it be so bad to die in such a way?" she asked plaintively, her voice trembling. "You don't understand what it's been like these past few weeks…"

Barbossa slipped an arm around her shoulders and gathered her tenderly to his side. Although startled at the gesture, she nevertheless found herself disinclined to resist. "Ye feel hollow, sure that ye'll perish from the emptiness inside," he murmured, his breath ruffling her hair as he leaned in close. "And ye believe that the only salvation ye'll ever find lies in the next world…that only death can offer ye peace for yer troubled mind. But take it from one as would know, 'Lizabeth, and mark me words well – ye should not welcome the end. The world won't always seem so black as it does this night."

Elizabeth sagged against his shoulder, her tears flowing as she finally gave release to all the misery she had held back. She buried her face in her hands, mortified that she'd been reduced to weeping like some frightened maiden. That he could see the darkness hidden in her soul so clearly was shocking and comforting at the same time. "Who knows what awaits us in the days ahead?" she cried, ashamed but unable to stop herself. "I know I'm not strong enough to be on my own!"

Pivoting to face her, Barbossa tipped up her chin and gently thumbed away her tears. "Look at all ye have endured on this journey, girl…horrors that would have broken the most stout-hearted of sailors! Ye might feel bruised and set upon, weary of spirit and sick at heart, but I know there be strength in ye yet."

She shook her head, touched by his words but unconvinced all the same. "How can you know that's true? I don't feel like there is enough of me left…everyone who has been taken from me, who has chosen to leave me behind, has taken a piece of me with them."

"Mourn them as ye will," he said sagely, affectionately tucking an errant lock of her hair behind her ear, "but fer each bit of yerself gone, a bit of them stayed with ye, too. With every loss and every triumph, yer remade anew. Don't let yer grief blind ye to all that your life might yet be. Ye musn't allow Beckett to rob ye of that as well."

A ragged sigh escaped her lips and she closed her eyes. Feeling utterly drained, she rested her damp cheek against his chest and relished the reassuring warmth of his skin on hers. His strong heartbeat was as soothing as a lullaby and he wrapped her in his arms, stroking her back and calming her as though she was a mere child.

As she stood quietly in Barbossa's embrace, though, Elizabeth felt anything but childlike. Each tender caress, however comforting he might have meant it to be, gradually brought forth in her a powerful new awareness of her champion. The strength of the arms around her, the softness of his breath tickling her temple, the solid feel of his body pressed to hers…all of it awakened instincts she'd suppressed for what seemed an eternity.

It might have been that the ale had lowered her defenses, or it might have been that his unexpected kindness had touched her in more ways than one, but she well knew it was a man –a fiercely passionate man – who held her so closely. He had wanted her once...perhaps some of those longings still remained. Returning to the Empress_ by herself to wait out the night, cold and fretting about the battle, held no appeal. One final evening aboard the_ Pearl_, on the other hand..._

"Captain," she whispered, sliding her arms beneath his coat so she could spread her fingers over the small of his back, "I don't want to be alone."

"Even if Turner don't ever come to his senses," he replied, his lilting voice a deep rumble against her cheek, "I promise that ye'll never face such a fate. There be many a man as would give all he had to…."

"No," she interrupted, daring to meet his serious gaze. His vow was solemnly uttered, but in giving it he seemed to be offering her far more than what she was really asking. "That's not what I'm saying. I don't want to be alone...tonight."

His eyes widened in disbelief as understanding sank in, but despite the flare of lust she caught on his face, he shook his head and pulled away from her. "Ye shouldn't be offerin' yerself to me in such a way," he said gruffly, stalking away from her. "Ye'd diminish yerself by layin' with the likes of me, and there'd be no forgiveness fer either of us come mornin'!"

"Neither of us would need seek it," Elizabeth pledged. "I am only asking for one night...I will place no obligations or expectations on you beyond that." Regardless of whether he refused her out of some misplaced sense of propriety or because, despite signs to the contrary, he did not want her in the same way she desperately wanted him, she found his rejection nearly impossible to accept.

"I wasn't attemptin' to entice ye into me bed," Barbossa heaved a sigh and sat down heavily on a discarded cask, rubbing at his face with one hand. "As low as I might have fallen over me many years, I ain't quite so despicable as to take liberties with ye when yer in such a state."

"It isn't taking liberties if I long for the same thing." She stood before him, as raw and vulnerable as she'd ever felt in her life. "Please, Captain...Hector. Do you not seek to keep your demons at bay for a few hours, too? To forget for just a little while how truly horrid mankind can be by losing yourself in another's most intimate embrace? I would have that...and it is you with whom I want to share it."

"Ye'd regret it," he insisted, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. "I'd not want to bear the brunt of yer contempt when mornin' comes and ye come to understand that the deed can't be undone."

Elizabeth's face went hot with humiliation. "You needn't beat around the bush to spare my feelings," she choked angrily, straightening herself and looking at him with what she hoped appeared to be disdain. "If you aren't interested, just say so! Perhaps I'll return to the hall and see if there is anyone within who doesn't find the thought of sharing a night with me to be quite so abhorrent!"

It was an empty threat; she knew there was no one else she could abide having touch her. Although she had no intention of following through on her words, going back inside at least offered a somewhat dignified retreat. With one last glare over her shoulder, she marched towards the door, her cheeks still burning red.

She hadn't made it two feet before Barbossa grabbed her arm and swung her around. Catching her in his arms, he held her against him so tightly that she almost struggled to breathe. With her hands trapped between their bodies, she was rendered helpless, and all of her writhing and kicking seemed to have no effect on him at all.

Freeing herself suddenly became the last thing on her mind, though, as he crushed his lips to hers and kissed her with a thoroughness that left her trembling with long-denied need. Liquid fire coursed through her veins as his mouth drew greedily on hers, his heat all but consuming her. His tongue slicked over her teeth and she parted her lips with a moan, inviting him further in. He plunged inside, tasting her deeply and she rejoiced, knowing that his desire for her burned every bit as hot as did her own.

He broke off the kiss abruptly. "Is that what ye'd have of me, then?" he demanded, his voice husky and heavy with passion. He seemed angry at his own loss of restraint. "Are ye so woebegone that ye figure ye deserve nothin' better than to be used so roughly?"

"I would have that and more," she confessed breathlessly, a shudder of arousal moving through her. She pushed against his chest and he leaned back enough to allow her to free her hands. "Do not shame me by making me beg."

Lifting her hand, she smoothed his whiskers with the back of her fingers. He closed his eyes as though luxuriating in her touch, the barest of moans escaping his parted lips. He captured her small hand in his and pressed a hungry kiss to her palm before looking back at her. "If ye be at all unsure, 'Lizabeth, ye must leave me now."

Elizabeth cradled his head in her hands and stood on tiptoe, brushing her lips lightly over his. "Take me," she said ardently between delicate kisses. "To your ship…on your bed…with your body."

"Come," he said, standing and drawing her towards the ladder leading to the small jetty below. "Fer tonight at least, ye be mine alone."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 - Time and Tide**

Elizabeth's hand shook slightly as she extended the key towards the rooming house door, but she couldn't say if her loss of composure came as a result of the flood of vivid memories, or from the sudden realization that Hector had loved her even then.

Who else had he ever graced with such kindness but her? When had he ever - _ever_ - exercised such restraint when faced with that which he desired? He'd pursued a life of shameless excess, taking whatever he wanted and making no excuses. Yet time and again she had been the exception to his rule, and she had simply accepted it without truly realizing what it must have meant for Captain Hector Barbossa to do so.

The thought should have been humbling, but instead Elizabeth found it intensely arousing. To have Hector harness his very nature for her sake certainly spoke to the intensity of his feelings…what woman would not want to be loved so fiercely? It was the intense passion of every girl's romantic fantasy.

On her second flustered attempt to get the key into the lock, Hector gently enveloped her hand in his and steadied her trembling fingers so she could finally complete the task. As the heavy door swung open into the darkened interior of the house, she dared a furtive glance up at his face and saw him looking down at her with bemusement.

What she should have done then was begged forgiveness for having taken him for granted, not just that night but every day of every year that he'd journeyed to Barbados to see her. She should have told him that she could think of no better father for her son and no better man with whom to share her life. It would have been only right to finally divulge that it wasn't by chance that she had chosen his bed in which to lose her innocence…that she had known instinctively that he would treat that most precious of moments with reverence and not casual disregard.

Yes, Elizabeth knew that she should have said that and more, but her all-encompassing need and overwrought emotion made coherent speech impossible. Instead, she rose up on her toes and kissed him passionately, willing him to feel everything she was woefully incapable of saying.

With the deepest of moans he parted his lips, granting her tacit permission to take an even deeper taste. She accepted ardently, cupping his jaw in her hand as she teased his tongue with hers, an intimate duel that left her desperate to sample every rough-hewn inch of his body.

Elizabeth felt his shudder as he reluctantly tore himself from the kiss, shaking his head even as he pulled away. "Ye don't fight fair," he complained in a rushed whisper, still breathless from her fervent efforts. "There ain't a thing I can do with this lout of a boy in me arms, and ye know it."

She leaned in, his long hair tickling her cheek as she nuzzled his ear. "Perhaps we'd best get our son tucked into his bed so that I may finally take you to mine. Then we shall _see_ what you can do."

His breath caught in his throat, and he snapped his head around so that he could capture her mouth with his again. Heat rushed through her body with each warm sweep of his tongue, each tender glide of his lips against hers, and she ached to feel his long fingers on her fevered skin.

"Ye've kept me waitin' long enough, 'Lizabeth," he warned with a low growl, his free hand sliding down to coarsely caress her buttocks through her breeches. "Grab up a lantern and lead the way...me patience ain't boundless."

A helpless whimper of anticipation slipped from her throat as she pulled herself from his embrace and stole ahead of him into the entryway.

* * *

Tendrils of smoke curled from a few of Bridgeport's chimneys, lazy grey tails that sank from the roofs and coiled around the street lamps below until they appeared to be nothing but floating, ghostly orbs. Elizabeth looked out over the town from the open window of her bedchamber, tugging her hair from its braid and quickly pulling a brush through her tangled tresses as she restlessly waited for Hector to join her.

The thin haze hanging over the housetops brought to mind the first night she had laid eyes on Hector Barbossa. The smoke from the _Black Pearl's_ guns had hung over the water as the crew rowed her across the harbour to confront their captain, the booming of the cannons echoing through the gloom and the tattered black canvas snapping in the wind.

She smiled to herself as she remembered the arrogance of her youth. Rather than being frightened at the prospect of facing down a notoriously vicious pirate captain, she had been secretly thrilled at the chance to board the legendary vessel and keen to impress the legendary Captain Barbossa with her vast knowledge of his world. It hadn't taken long for the cursed crew to relieve her of her ridiculous notions…or for her to understand that she was as far out of her depths as she could possibly be.

Neither she nor Hector bore much resemblance to their past selves any more. Dead and gone was the tormented wraith that Barbossa had been under the curse – born again to a mortal life so he could serve the needs of a goddess, Hector was the man she now knew he'd been long before they'd ever crossed paths. As for her…well, the spoiled and naïve girl had disappeared forever when she'd snapped a manacle around Jack Sparrow's wrist and shackled him to the main mast, leaving him to the Kraken's wrath. In actuality, it felt less a stain on her soul to her than a revelation of her truer, darker nature, long buried though it had been. Perhaps that was what eventually bound her so closely to Hector…it was that darkness they shared.

The heavy tread on the steps caught her attention and Elizabeth turned expectantly towards her door, her heart sprinting as Hector made his way to her room. Once they'd settled William in his bed and retreated into the hallway, he'd mumbled under his breath about retrieving something from the parlour and had disappeared downstairs. Left at loose ends for a while, she paced the room and tidied as a way of occupying herself before abandoning her pointless efforts. It wasn't likely that he'd notice the state of the room, but he _would _be focused on her, she realized, and so in the end she decided she'd be better served doing what she could to make herself halfway presentable.

The squeal of the hinges announced his entrance into the room, and he swung the door closed behind him with a definitive thud. Hector's face remained hidden in shadow as he paused beyond of the glow of the candles she'd placed around the room, but Elizabeth could feel his eyes rake over her all the same. A shiver moved up her spine and her nipples grew tight within the bodice of the indecently gauzy gown she'd donned.

She stood before him, patiently bearing his silent scrutiny for what seemed an eternity before she took one hesitant step towards him, her hand outstretched to draw him closer.

"No, stay where ye be," he rumbled, and she stopped in mid-step, her brow knitting in sudden confusion and concern. His unusual behaviour left her feeling self-conscious, and she fiddled nervously with the loose silk ribbons at her breast.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly, not sure what to think about his reticence. On the stoop, he'd seemed more than ready and willing, and that made his abrupt withdrawal all the more alarming. "What is it?"

"There be somethin' I must tell ye."

"Go ahead, then." Elizabeth steeled herself, afraid of what she might hear, her mind racing with possibilities. He sounded apprehensive, as though on the verge of a terrible confession. Perhaps he wasn't so forgiving of her transgressions as she might have thought.

"Did ye ever have cause to look at that chart as we got from Sao Feng, girl? The one as led us to the edge of the world?"

She looked at him quizzically, not understanding what the bamboo drawing had to do with the current situation. That journey now seemed a lifetime ago. "No, not really. I wasn't doing much navigating on that voyage."

"When last the crew and I set sail from Barbados," he said, leaning back against the door, "we made fer a place as was on that there chart. 'La Florida', 'tis called. Mind ye, took us years to find the right bearins' since that poxy cur Jack Sparrow went and cut out the centre of me map. But find it, we did...and the treasure, to boot."

Sighing in exasperation, Elizabeth crossed the few feet over to her bed and sat down on its edge. "What is this about? You might have missed it earlier, but I'm not exactly in the mood to hear about chests full of gold and pearls..."

Hector gave a low chuckle. "Nay, weren't none of that. What we found, 'tis of far more value."

She threw up her hands. "Weapons, then? I can't begin to guess." What did she care about more pirate swag? For certain, the _Pearl's_ hold was likely set to bursting with it. Pirates were rather like ravens at times, eager to get their hands on any bit of shine that caught their eyes. How was it that Hector could go from barely controlled carnal need to exuberant story weaving in a matter of moments?

"T'was water."

"Pardon me?"

He opened his fingers to reveal a tiny blue bottle and tossed it towards her. Catching it, she held it up to the light and saw what appeared to be perhaps half an inch of clear liquid at the bottom. "Why on earth would a few spoonfuls of water…" she began before understanding suddenly dawned. The map he had spoken of only led to places of legend. She gasped and stood, the near-empty bottle clenched tightly in her fist.

"You went looking for Ponce de León's wellspring! It was the Fountain of Youth that you found, wasn't it?" she demanded, angry tears clouding her eyes. "Hector, what have you done?"

He'd gone still, obviously not getting the reaction he'd expected from her. "Ye must understand…" he began, his voice low and level.

"Step into the light," she demanded tremulously. "Damn you, do it now!"

He took one long stride forwards and her hand flew to her mouth in shock as she tried to contain her astonishment. Hector might have only sipped a little bit of the mystical water, but the effects had been sudden and profound.

His face had once been a testament to the nature of the life he'd led, harshly scarred from battle and deeply etched from the relentless ravages of wind, sea, and sun over the years. Gone now was the mottled ruddiness of his skin, along with the most prominent creases around his eyes and mouth. His features were smoother, the flesh around his cheekbones and jaw firm, and the whites of his eyes clear of the unhealthy yellow tinge that was the result of too little food and too much liquor.

Hector's hair was thick and wavy, of a much deeper auburn hue now that the silver strands had vanished. Even the whiskers of his moustache and beard seemed thicker, the bronze bristles framing full, sensuous lips. His eyes shone clear in the flickering candlelight, glints of steely blue that were now shadowed by uncharacteristic uncertainty.

He stood straight and tall, his back and shoulders no longer rounded by the weights of age and responsibility. And although he was still clothed, the fit of his shirt and the tightness of his breeches were an obvious indication that more than just his face had been restored to its youthful glory.

He looked twenty years younger, she thought to herself, stricken by the extent of the transformation. Almost two decades washed away in the matter of a few quick swallows. He was now a splendid specimen of manhood, to be sure, and one for whom any woman in her right mind would lust. But while she knew she should be happy for him, should be glad of the fact that he'd been able to steal back some of those hard-lived years, this altered version of him left her feeling strangely bereft.

"Why?" she whispered, shaking her head in stunned disbelief. "Why would you do this?"

"Thought you'd be pleased to see me this way," Hector growled, his brow furrowed with confusion. He held his arms out at his sides as though he was proudly displaying some new outfit for her approval. "Figured ye'd rejoice in havin' yerself a man in his prime and not some ragged old sea dog, broken down and pathetic."

"You did this for me?" Elizabeth cried, sickened by the thought. "Without even asking me if that was what I'd want? I fell in love with you exactly as you were...there was nothing about you that I sought to change!"

"Nothin' at all? Ye might remember, I weren't a young man when first ye laid eyes upon me," he countered, the corners of his mouth turning down in a scowl. "How much time do ye believe I've left to me? Lost ten years fer touchin' cursed gold…watched ten more slip away while I pined after ye like some besotted fool. Ye might still be the picture of youth, 'Lizabeth, but I see that final horizon approachin' far too quickly fer me likin'. At last I can call ye me own…can be a father to me son. Succumbed to death once already and I ain't in a hurry to let it take me again, not now that I can claim all that which makes life worth livin'!"

Hector reached for her with one hand and she trembled, fighting the irrational urge to flee the room and find the man to whom she'd pledged her love not an hour earlier. She understood the reasons behind his decision - really, shouldn't she consider what he'd done a blessing? But everything about him that was so endearingly familiar had vanished and she didn't know if she could accept it with as much eagerness and delight as he seemed to expect.

"Please," he pleaded gently, stopping in his tracks and hesitantly letting his arm drop. "I want naught but to hold ye."

She nodded tentatively but averted her gaze with unaccustomed shyness, unable to watch as he closed the distance between them. Elizabeth was still shaking slightly as he gathered her into his arms and he sighed sadly as he drew her up against him.

"Shut yer eyes," he murmured, his words gentle but insistent. Elizabeth complied, finding it easier than seeing him this way, easier than coming face to face with the stranger who now held her so intimately.

For a time, she remained stiff and uneasy in his embrace, reluctant to submit so readily to his show of affection. It felt wrong, as though she was yet again on the verge of betrayal if she allowed herself to succumb. As the minutes ticked by, though, and his chest rose and fell against her own in a steady rhythm, she allowed herself to relax slightly. The scent of his skin was as she remembered it, with the faintest hints of seawater, sweat and the harsh homemade soap he'd used during his bath. The feel of his elegant fingers stroking her long mantle of her hair, the reassuring weight of his hand against bend of her waist, and the soft caress of his breath against her brow…it all brought back the tender way he'd worshipped her body that long-ago night.

"'Lizabeth," he whispered hoarsely, the single word a touching entreaty. More than that, though, it was the beloved timbre of his voice that threatened to break her heart entirely.

She tilted her chin up and looked at him, focusing solely on the remarkable depths of his stormy eyes. He remained her Hector, she could see it so clearly now…the man, the rogue, the pirate. Passionate, wild and ravenous - what truly mattered had remained unchanged by the fountain's sorcery. She needed only look with her heart.

"Kiss me," she implored as love swelled in her chest, and the breath had barely left her lips when he lowered his mouth to hers, his arms tightening as he gave in to her demand with aching slowness. And yes – _oh yes_, thank the gods – he tasted just as he should, just as she remembered. The unexpected softness of his lips might have surprised her at first, but such trivial detail was quickly forgotten as he reawakened each and every desperate longing she'd fought to keep at bay over the previous nine years, night after lonely night.

They finally drew apart for need of air, breathing hard as they stared at one another through a lustful haze. "I love you," Elizabeth whispered, needing him to know it for sure…needing him to hear it said before they went any further. "However you look, it doesn't matter to me."

Hector closed his eyes and smiled as though savouring the simple words, his content expression exactly the same as when he savoured the tang of a fine wine or the tart juice of a green apple. But there was an unmistakable glint of mischief in his eye when he glanced down at her again. "And how would ye be knowin' it don't matter? Ye can't be sayin' that fer certain until ye see fer yerself all the changes that the waters have wrought."

She laughed and cocked her head at him coquettishly, even as her cheeks began to burn with an irrepressible blush. "I suppose you're right," she concurred, catching the ties on his shirt and pulling on them as she tugged him back towards the bed. "Where shall we begin?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 - A Love Unbound**

Hector caught Elizabeth with another kiss as he seized her in his arms and swung her around, the hot press of his mouth sending new waves of longing washing through her. His beard chafed coarsely against her soft skin but stopping was unthinkable – his crushing kiss was like the first sweet drink of water after a long, parched thirst and she drank greedily from him, each touch of their lips fuelling a craving for more.

The last time she'd readily given herself to passion seemed like a far distant memory now. Finally wed, she and Will had made love during those few fleeting hours on the beach nine years earlier. Elizabeth had adored her doomed young captain at that moment – she could not deny the fact. If she was to be honest to herself, though, the consummation of their marriage had been a disappointment of sorts. She was the first that Will had bedded, just as he'd believed that he was hers, and the awkward fumbling and quick congress that was the culmination of their honeymoon stood in stark contrast to what had taken place in the captain's quarters aboard the _Black Pearl_ the night before.

Just the memory of her first experience with Hector was enough to send a delicious shiver of anticipation through her. She'd never have believed that a man of such a fierce disposition and voracious hungers could be capable of such sweetness and devotion. With his deft yet tender touch, he had roused a carnal appetite she'd not known she possessed…had taken her repeatedly to the brink of jubilant tears with the aching intensity of her response. And when at last he could hold himself back no longer, the exquisite sensation of him moving within her had sent her flying apart in heart-stopping ecstasy.

Tonight, though, things felt very different between them. There was a sharp, dangerous edge to his need that Elizabeth sensed through the desperate grip of his hands on her waist, in the almost brutal way he clasped the back of her neck and held her prisoner as he repeatedly breached her mouth, in the raw gasps of desire that burst from his lungs as she writhed against him. As careful and considerate a lover as he'd been when he'd taken her virginity, she found the threat of his lustful and brusque side far more thrilling.

Before his restraint gave way altogether, though, she wanted something from him...something she had often dreamed of doing with him long before the fountain's enchantment had stripped the years away and left her with a much younger version of her pirate captain.

Elizabeth reluctantly broke from his kiss and pulled back a few inches, earning a growl of agonized frustration from Hector in the process. When he bent towards her to claim her lips once more, she gently framed his face with her hands and shook her head, staring into his dark and sinful eyes.

"Please, let's not rush this. I want to take my time looking at you…touching you," she murmured, lovingly tracing his furrowed brow with her fingertips. "I've spent so many sleepless nights imagining it. Indulge me in this, my beloved."

It was the endearment that ultimately convinced him, she knew, for his feral expression softened as the sentiment touched his heart. He wordlessly nodded his assent and Elizabeth felt a sudden twinge of sorrow, for in that instant Hector seemed far more vulnerable than ever before. It occurred to her that perhaps there had been no one up until that moment, including her, who'd ever cared enough to ask such a thing of him. Oh, she knew for certain he'd been with countless women over the decades – his seductive prowess alone spoke to his vast experience in the bed chamber. But by virtue of his reaction, he knew what she asked came from much more than a need for physical intimacy alone.

The thought that he was so moved by her request both pleased and pained her. It was sad that he'd not ever been close enough to a woman to have shared that kind of closeness, but she was inordinately glad that in this simple way at least, she would be his first. And she desperately wanted to ensure that he derived as much bliss from her actions as she did from his on their first night together.

Elizabeth swept his dark coppery locks from his face and slowly followed the contours of his cheekbones with the backs of her fingers, smiling to herself as Hector closed his eyes and leaned into the caress with a ragged sigh. Even with his youthful renewal, he'd never inspire sonnets about male beauty, she silently acknowledged as she gazed fondly at him, but there was something so utterly masculine, so unerringly confident in his demeanour that she found no mystery to his appeal. From the hard line of his jaw to the dark fringe of his eyelashes, from the faint laugh lines around his stormy blue eyes to the alluring sensuality of his mouth, she treasured his every aspect – for her, at least, no other man could ever hope to compare.

She lightly brushed the lush curve of his bottom lip with the pad of her thumb and delighted in his soft exhalation of happiness at her gentle touch. "I love your mouth," she confessed as she continued to stroke its generous shape. "Do you know how many hours I laid awake remembering the warmth of your lips on mine…the sharp scrape of your teeth on my breast…the broad sweep of your tongue over my belly and between my legs…?"

"Gods, 'Lizabeth!" Hector gasped harshly, his eyes flying open as he fixed her with a smouldering look that caused her to flush from head to toe. Seemingly forgetting his promise, he ground his hips against hers, his grasp on her waist tightening as she felt him grow hotter and harder through his clothes. The fervour of his response lanced aching arousal down to her very core and for a moment Elizabeth considered abandoning her decadent exploration to give in to what they had denied themselves for too long already, but she stubbornly resisted the impulse. The time wasn't right, not yet.

Elizabeth shushed him and entwined her hands in his hair, feeling the cool, wavy strands slip between her fingers and watching as the light caught streaks of reddish gold in amongst the darker tendrils. His eyelids seemed to grow heavier as she did so, almost as though he was a great cat being stroked, and a rumble of gratification rose from deep within him as she dragged her fingernails over his scalp. As her hands settled beneath the heavy drape of his mane, she played with the fine hairs on his nape and coaxed him forward until she was nuzzling the crook of his sweat-dampened neck.

"All that you did to me that first time, I wish to do to you, and more" she purred, letting her hot breath bathe his ear as she inhaled the tantalizing scent of his skin. "Undress for me, Hector. I want to see everything you have to offer me."

"Choose yer words with care, missy," he groaned, shuddering as she tongued his earlobe and then sucked it in between her teeth. "There be consequences to such bold talk."

The cautionary note was entirely unnecessary – Elizabeth was well aware that she was playing with fire, one that would inevitably consume them both. But so long as he could curtail himself, she would take her time and create new memories to sustain them through any lonely times ahead. Tonight would not last forever and although she knew that he'd not stay away longer than necessary, who and what he was made parting inevitable.

Pushing aside all sobering thoughts of his imminent departure, she laughed softly and slipped her hands under his shirt, skimming the smooth, hot skin beneath. "I will willingly pay any penalty you choose to exact for my iniquitous behaviour. Until then, however...remove the shirt first, if you please."

He stepped back and narrowed his eyes in warning, but the amused curl of his lip told her that he was far from reluctant to obey. With a smug and rather self-satisfied expression on his face, Hector bundled the hem of his shirt into his hands and gradually peeled it up over his torso. As he leisurely revealed himself, purposely tormenting her with a slow striptease, Elizabeth swallowed hard as she saw what lay beneath.

Any man who spent his life at sea could boast of a certain physical form; the day-to-day rigours of sailing, not to mention a limited diet, meant that most pirates were lean and hungry-looking. Hector, when she'd last looked upon him in the nude, had been no exception. But there was nothing even vaguely gaunt or undernourished about him anymore – from the broad, flat expanse of his upper chest to his tightly packed abdomen, his body now spoke of virility and strength. No wonder his fellow buccaneers had always hesitated to challenge his authority; there was little doubt that the physical dexterity and combat skills he'd possessed as a younger man would have meant a quick and decisive resolution to any disputes.

When at last the garment had been tossed casually to the floor and Hector's hair settled back over his shoulders, Elizabeth couldn't help put reach out eagerly with both hands to touch him again. His shoulders were wide and solid, flowing beneath her fingers into arms that bulged with well-toned muscles. Each stretch and strand flexed slowly under her caress as she skimmed over the crisp hairs on his forearms.

"Oh...my..." she exhaled, squeezing his arm and thrilling at the unyielding feel of his flesh. His pectorals flexed as he curled his hands into fists, intentionally drawing her attention to the deep brown circles of his nipples that stood out on his flawless skin and practically begged to be sucked upon.

"An' here ye had me thinkin' that ye were disappointed in my choice to consume the water from the fountain," he taunted as a slow, teasing smirk spread across his face.

"Perhaps there was some small benefit," Elizabeth conceded with a furious blush as she ran her hands possessively over his lightly-tanned midriff. "I have to tell you, though...when I see you like this, I am forced to admit to being jealous of every woman who ever laid claim to you before me. I can't stand the thought of anyone else having touched you."

His smile slowly faded and he gathered her hands in his, laying them over his heart. "'Lizabeth...there might have been women before ye, but not a one as can be sayin' that she _claimed_ me. Ain't ever given meself to anyone as I have to ye. I'd not have taken them waters at all had ye not declared yer love and so fed me starvin' heart."

Her chest ached with a suppressed sob as she came to the shattering realization that Hector would have turned his back on a long life if she hadn't been willing to share it with him. "How do you expect me to seduce you when you all but reduce me to tears at every turn?" she cried in frustration, striking at his taut chest with her small fists. "You are positively infuriating!"

He roughly seized hold of her wrists to stop her ineffectual assault and his devious grin gradually reappeared as she tried to wrest herself free. "Show me, then, what ye'd have of me," he muttered as he thrust himself against her, letting her feel for herself that his longing had in no way been assuaged by the sentimentality of their exchange. "I'll take all that ye dare to give, me little hellcat!"

"Perhaps if it was your hands fettered rather than mine," Elizabeth suggested impulsively, rubbing herself along the hot, hard line of his body and moaning as an echoing throb of need surged through her, "I would be able to do anything I pleased to you."

Hector's answering chuckle was low and sultry. "Bound and at yer mercy? Careful what ye ask fer, lass. Might just be tempted to take ye up on that offer. Ain't nothin' stirs a man more than a beautiful woman having her wicked way with him, and him helpless to stop 'er."

The image he described sent a thrilling flush of heat over Elizabeth's skin and she trembled helplessly. Holding him hostage and subject to her every desire seemed almost unbearably erotic. And to have control of that kind over one such as Hector Barbossa...it was simply a fantasy too good not to indulge.

"Release me, then" she whispered, rising onto her toes so she could press her lips to his again. "Release me so that I may bind your hands and do with you as I will."

His eyebrows arched in both disbelief and intrigue, and it was more from surprise than purpose that he loosened his grip on her wrists and allowed her to step away. Biting her bottom lip coyly, she regarded him from beneath hooded eyes and brought her hands up to offhandedly twirl the white satin ribbon tied at her bodice. As his gaze dropped to her bosom, she picked up each end of the ribbon and slowly tugged until the neat bow slipped undone and the lace panels parted to reveal the soft swells of her small breasts.

Smiling knowingly at the new tension that was making the muscles of Hector's jaw tick and his hands clench into white-knuckled fists, Elizabeth wove her fingers into the loops of ribbon and started working them free from the eyelets on the gown. As she did so, she let her eyes rake over him shamelessly, taking in the fact that he'd left his boots at the threshold to her room and now wore only stockings and breeches...breeches that looked, as a matter of point, ill suited to containing the size of the arousal that stirred within. .

"Put your hands behind your back and turn around," Elizabeth demanded huskily, dreamily slipping the smooth ribbon free of her garment and letting it hang from her fingers. It seemed very flimsy and unsuited to the purpose, but she hoped it would suffice. Then again, if it did not, the consequences were unlikely to be dire or objectionable. There truly was no way for her to lose.

"Get on with it, ye evil wench, before I've a change of heart," he said, his mouth quirking with a covert smile before he pivoted and faced away from her. The firm muscles in his back shifted temptingly as did he stretched his arms behind him, laying one wrist over the other and curling his long fingers into towards his palms. "Toy with me much longer and I'll be grantin' ye no quarter at all."

Before he could make good on his provocative threat, Elizabeth quickly looped the satin cord several times around his wrists and then between them, forming a sort of makeshift shackle. Employing devious use of her nautical expertise, she finished it off with a buntline hitch, a knot that would tighten rather than loosen should he wrench at the tether. With a sly grin, she tugged the loose ends of the ribbon to ensure it would hold fast.

"I'd like to see you get out of that one, my fearsome prisoner."

Hector glanced back over his shoulder, his blue eyes glinting with mischievous intent. "Best take whate'er liberties ye wish while me patience lasts, _Yer Highness._"

Elizabeth trailed her fingertips lightly over his bare waist and sauntered slowly around him until she stood before him once more. "Mmmm," she hummed vaguely, distracted as she painstakingly mapped the well-honed contours of his abdomen. His muscles twitched wherever she touched him, and his breathing grew more rapid with each new and enticing spot she discovered.

Her eyes flicked up to his face to catch him staring back at her with smouldering expectation, and she ceased in her ministrations, suddenly beset by doubt. What did she know about pleasing a man? During their one night together, she had received far more than she'd given to Hector, and there had been little time for her to learn anything at all from her few hours with Will. The possibility that she might be found wanting loomed large in her mind and she wondered in consternation if she shouldn't let him take the lead again.

"'Lizabeth…" he said, frowning at her hesitance. "What's come o'er ye?"

Elizabeth's cheeks burned red. "I don't know what to do," she admitted faintly as she turned her head away, unable to meet his eyes. "I put you in this ridiculous position and now I haven't the foggiest idea about how to make you…that is, when last I was with you..."

"Look at me. 'Lizabeth, listen," he said quietly. Grudgingly, she did as he asked and saw that he was smiling gently. "There's great satisfaction to be found in discoverin' fer yerself that which best pleases yer lover. Besides," he added, leaning close so he could whisper lovingly against her mouth, "'tis _yer_ caresses that I must have, _yer_ kisses I crave. 'Tis _ye_, me love, as be touchin' me; the rest matters not."

"Where did all this sweet talk come from, I wonder?" she asked lightly, speaking around the tightness in her throat brought forth by the word 'love.' Almost of their own accord, her hands rose to drift over his strapping chest once more, his skin a tactile addiction she couldn't hope to resist.

"Ye might remember, missy, that I always did have a way with words," Hector replied, his tongue gliding out to skilfully coax her lips further apart. Elizabeth snaked her hands up around his neck, holding him fast lest he dare rob her of the precious sustenance of his kiss. It was his tenderness, in the end, that finally cast away the last of her inhibitions and unlocked the lusts she'd harboured for so long.

"And what words might I expect, say, should I do...this?" She reluctantly pulled away to nuzzle the base of his throat, languidly licking at the hollow until his head fell back and his breath broke with a profound groan. His reaction caused her to smile against his warm skin and emboldened her further.

"Or I maybe I only wish to know," she went on, the musky scent of his desire growing ever stronger as she pressed herself as close as she could to him and inhaled deeply, "how eloquent you are when I take of you in this way."

Elizabeth kissed her way from his throat to his heaving chest and tugged one of his dark brown nipples between her teeth, nipping it sharply before she laved at it within the sweltering confines of her mouth. The air left Hector's lungs in a harsh rush and he arched his back, pinned against her as he offered himself to her without benefit of coherent thought or dialogue.

Years prior when he had cupped her breast gracefully in his hand and subjected her to the same exquisite torture, Elizabeth had been rendered powerless, no stronger than a kitten beneath his ardent attentions. To find that she was able to reduce him to the very same state by following his example was unspeakably exciting.

She abandoned the first nipple, giving him no time at all to recover his composure before she latched onto the second and suckled there as well, circling the flat tan oval and then jabbing the taut nub with her tongue. Hector's entire body went rigid with tension, and she could tell from the contraction of muscles across his chest that he was fighting his silken restraints.

Letting his nipple slip from between her lips, Elizabeth gently blew across the turgid flesh until it puckered hard. "At a loss for words, are we?" she muttered shrewdly, watching him from beneath the lace of her dark eyelashes as she used a single finger to follow the faint line of dark red hair to where it disappeared into his breeches

"Perhaps I'll be lettin' me body do the speakin' fer me," he forewarned, by now making no secret of the fact that he was attempting to free himself so he could reciprocate her brazen efforts to rob him of self-control.

"You'll do no such thing, bound as you are." Confident in the strength of his bonds, Elizabeth cocked her head appraisingly as she slid her hand over the front panel of his breeches, revelling in the heat permeating the few layers of fabric that separated her inquisitive touch from his tightly-constrained manhood. When she scraped her fingernails over the swelling, his eyes squeezed shut in tortured ecstasy and he sucked in a hissing breath. She knew he wanted her to touch him beneath his clothes, skin to skin, almost as much as she wanted it herself...but the anticipation was too precious to sacrifice just yet.

Trailing her hand back to his waistband, she purposely took her time as she tugged and toyed with the buttons holding the panel in place, knowing that by now he was sensitive enough to feel every tiny wriggle and tantalizing scrape of fabric. When his moans grew most insistent, she finally accorded him mercy and worked the last of the fasteners loose. The flap of material didn't fall open so much as burst outwards, leaving him sighing raggedly in relief as he was exposed to her in all of his considerable glory.

It was little wonder to her that Hector had always had a penchant for loose fitting breeches; the tight pants that were becoming increasingly popular with younger sailors would have been uncomfortably constrictive even when he wasn't aroused. Whatever shortcomings he might have, what was jutting out proudly from between his legs wasn't one of them.

Protruding impressively from a sparse nest of auburn curls, his cock was long and thick, swaying heavily between his navel and his thighs. His foreskin was a pale tawny brown, deepening in hue the closer it was to his loins. Bluish veins traced his entire length, meandering ridges that led up towards the broad, glistening, plum-shaped head of ruddy rose that had emerged fully from its sheath. The sight of him, so big and beautiful, triggered an equally ardent reaction in her own body and she felt an answering rush of slick warmth between her legs.

"Why, Captain Barbossa! You're not wearing any small clothes!" she exclaimed in feigned shock, her voice shaking slightly as her fingers hovered a hair's breadth from caressing his massive girth. "How very scandalous!"

He managed to bark out a strangled laugh. "Had 'em when I first made shore. As luck would have it, though, they went astray while I took me bath, and I was left with no choice but to go without. If ye look to lay blame, ye must cast it upon the woman as chose me new clothes and left me in such immodest circumstances."

"Tongues would definitely have wagged had the merchant found me pawing through the gentlemen's skivvies," she informed him, raising her eyebrow suggestively. "Besides, I quite like having you so…unencumbered."

"Is that so? Well, ye'd not know it by the amount of touchin' on yer part," he snarled, clearly growing more vexed as she deliberately prolonged his agony.

"What would you call this, then?" she offered, walking her fingers slowly up the middle of his chest and delighting as he shivered visibly, gooseflesh breaking out over his sweat-dampened skin.

"Ye've gone on long enough with yer teasin'," Hector warned darkly, the muscles in his shoulders and arms bunching into sinewy knots. "Ye know I'll not be standin' fer much more."

"A positively terrifying thought, I'm sure." Paying little heed to his threat, she let her hand drop back to his midriff and then coast progressively downward until she just grazed his short hairs. His breathing paused before his lips parted in a sudden, unsteady gasp, and she realized that the power she had over him now would always be there, bonds or not.

Elizabeth hooked her fingers over the waistband resting loosely on his hips and pushed his breeches over the curve of his flanks. The weight of the fabric took them the rest of the way down and as his trousers pooled around his ankles, she reached between their bodies and filled her hands with his pulsing cock.

Hector jerked hard within her palms and cried out, swaying on his feet as though his knees might buckle from the intensity of his pleasure. "Wait!" he panted, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Wait. Just...just keep still. Fuck, 'Lizabeth...ye'll have me embarassin' meself if ye so much as wiggle yer little finger."

Her heart was pounding against her ribs, his powerful reaction both surprising and thrilling her. She did as he asked, trembling with the effort of remaining motionless as he fought to regain some composure. "Tell me what to do," she breathed, wanting to give him more but not sure exactly how to proceed considering she'd already brought him to the brink of completion. "I want to please you."

"Kiss me," he replied, staring at her raptly. He lifted his feet in turn, kicking his breeches out of the way so he could set a wider stance. "Do naught but that fer now. I need yer taste on me lips."

Ever mindful of her hands and his precarious predicament, Elizabeth slowly rose on her tiptoes to meet his descending lips and kissed him passionately. To her wonder, he grew even stiffer and hotter in her grip as their tongues first touched and then tangled. She moaned as she remembered the sensation of him buried deep inside of her, filling every lonely ache and hollow place.

Slowly he flexed his hips towards her, his cockhead bumping against her belly as he slid within her grasp. "Snugly, now," he choked out, withdrawing and then thrusting forward again as she gently complied. "Aye...oh, lass...that's it...so good..."

Elizabeth couldn't help but look, riveted at the sight of his strong, rigid organ as it moved sinuously through the channel formed by her hands. It throbbed with the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat, twitching as the slick tip drove past the tight circle of her fingers.

On his next lunge, she loosened her grip enough that her hands slid all the way to his groin, and she brushed the heavy sac that hung beneath his shaft with her fingertips. He groaned loudly as his pace faltered, and she felt a faint jolt of panic. "Did that hurt? You must tell me if I'm doing something wrong!"

He shook his head vehemently, panting. "Don't stop. I swear, there ain't a thin' ye can do as will wound me. I be yers, love...I told ye, whate'er ye'd have of me, take it."

Reassured, Elizabeth ran her hands down to his loins once more and cupped his balls in her hand. The skin covering them constricted at her touch, drawing up towards his body as she swept her fingernails lightly over the rough surface. Turning her face back up towards his, she watched his blissful expression deepen as she tenderly cradled the fleshy heft of him in her palm. He was large here, too, in a way that spoke to his untamed virility.

"Every night you spent beneath my roof, I had to fight the urge to creep down the hall and slip into your room unannounced," she revealed softly, squeezing his bollocks carefully and extracting another desperate gasp from Hector that only intensified the near-painful yearning centred in her womb. "I wanted to peel back your covers and rouse you by doing exactly this. Well, more than this, actually."

He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan. "What more?"

By way of answer, she knelt before him, releasing him so that she could feather her hands over his firm flanks and tickle the dusting of golden red hairs she found there. "I wanted the feel of your skin against mine...the scent of you all over my body...the taste of you in my mouth. I wanted to be marked as yours in every way possible."

His eyes widened in astonishment at her brazen words, but she didn't give him an opportunity to respond before she took him in hand once again and brought his engorged head to her lips. A drop of clear fluid welled from the tiny slit and she caught it on her tongue, savouring his succulent flavour as she leisurely lapped at the dark pink flesh.

Hector froze, every muscle in his legs tensing to the point where his limbs began to shake. "No," he grated, his breath coming fast and shallow between tightly clenched teeth. "'Lizabeth! Don't...please..."

His words of protest poorly masked his true desires, however, and his hips surged towards her welcoming lips as she opened her mouth wider and suckled at him, twirling her tongue around his smooth, wide tip and flicking the tiny flap of skin on the underside of his flared ridge. From the primal sounds he seemed helpless to contain, there was no denying that she was driving him mad and pushing him ever closer to the edge. What she lacked in experience, she was determined to make up with zeal and a rather sound hypothesis that what felt good to her would likely be equally arousing for him as well.

The truth was that Elizabeth didn't care if she brought him fulfillment even without reaching her own. She loved that he was lost in the rising tide of pleasure she had unleashed, loved that he was unable to resist the warm haven of her mouth despite his pleas to the contrary.

"Ye must...stop..." he grunted, trying half-heartedly to twist away from her. "I'm warnin' ye..."

She clasped his erection more tightly in her hands, sliding his foreskin slowly down and then back up his quivering length before she teased him with her tongue once more. "And if I choose not to...stop, that is?" she smiled deviously up at him, licking at her bottom lip. "I find myself disinclined to acquiesce to your request, Captain."

What began as a giggle ended with a squeal of utter shock as she was lifted by her shoulders and flung back upon her bed. Before she could recover her bearings, Hector was upon her, pinning her to the mattress beneath the weight of his restless body. His hair swept over her face and his blue eyes glittered with nefarious victory.

"Wha...what? You were tied up!" she stammered, too stunned to do anything but lay submissively beneath him. "How on earth...?"

A tattered length of ribbon dangled from his long fingers. "Do you imagine that ye could hold me with so simple a hitch? I've been a sailor for nigh on two score and ten years, lass...and I had that there bindin' of yers undone minutes after ye began yer wee game. Ain't a knot ye can tie as can hold me...I only be insulted that ye thought otherwise."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him, torn between being furious that he'd only pretended to play along and being proud of his skills. "So why did you wait so long to show your hand, so to speak?"

"Humoured ye as long as I was able," he growled, pushing her thighs apart with his knees. "Ye'd not listen, though, and would have had me spillin' meself before I could claim the hard-earned right to fuck ye good and hard!"

He shifted his hips until he was well-seated between her legs and pressing against her quim through the gauzy fabric of her gown. Elizabeth gasped and then moaned at the stone-hard feel of him, glorying in the understanding that she'd brought him to the point where self-control was no longer possible and she was now about to reap the benefits. "What would it have mattered if I'd brought you off with my...explorations?" she asked desperately, trying to think coherently through the sensations. "With as much young blood as you have coursing through your veins, my beloved, I'd expect you'd be capable of rising to the occasion more than once."

"In this, I'll be brookin' no argument. A decade ye've had me on tenterhooks, waitin' fer ye to see fer yerself who was truly the better man. I'll have ye as I see fit, and make ye all the more glad fer it!" Hector pushed himself upright enough to straddle her thighs and gathered the gaping material of her bodice in his fist. With a roar of pure animalistic lust, he tore the garment from her body and let the shreds of lace and linen fall to the wayside as he stripped her bare in a matter of seconds.

"Then take me!" she dared him, the sudden coolness of the night air a startling contrast against her burning skin. He was magnificent, looming above her with a wild look on his face and his body gleaming with sweat. Something deep in her body clenched and she felt herself opening for him, ready to take what he had to give. "Show me the depth of your desire and to hell with conversation!"

He fell on her at once, his mouth ravaging hers as though to steal the very breath from her lungs. Without any pretence of tenderness, he forced her to spread her legs even further apart and plunged himself into her slick passage with an abrupt burst of movement.

Elizabeth might have screamed but for the fact that his barbarous incursion had temporarily robbed her of the ability to speak. Her back arched off of the mattress and wordless with awe, she sank her fingernails into the thick flesh of his arms, alternately trying to push him away and pull him closer. It wasn't so much the pain of him sinking himself further and further into her that she found distressing, 'though given his size and the length of time she'd been celibate, some brief soreness was a foregone conclusion. Rather, she was besieged by physical and emotional sensations so intense that she knew it would shatter her instantly if he didn't stop and give her a moment to gather her wits about her.

Hector began to pull out but if Elizabeth expected any kind of brief reprieve, it didn't come. Instead, her hunger grew more acute than ever before and she felt bereft of the flickering fire he'd just ignited. Elizabeth linked her legs around his buttocks and halted his retreat, pressing him back against the ready heat of her body. With a thrust of his hips, he sheathed himself within her once more, and the first joyful tear trickled from the corner of her eye to the sheets beneath her head.

"Ye belong to me, 'Lizabeth," he hissed, nipping at her neck as he set a fervid pace, his cock pounding into her and stretching her to her very limits. He dipped his head to catch her nipple between his teeth, flicking and jabbing at it with his tongue until she gave a ragged cry and writhed beneath him.

"Yes! Yes, only yours!" Her eager hands sought out the hard planes of his back, tracking the lithe, long curve until she could clutch the flexing muscles of his arse and spur him further on. Liquid flowed from within and coated her thighs with each stroke, signalling her eager welcome of his ardent affections.

"Should always have been so," he persisted stubbornly, as though she hadn't answered. He engulfed one of her breasts within his palm and she exhaled with a low, guttural moan of ecstasy as he squeezed hard. As dear as her memories of their first night together had been over the years, the passion he unleashed in her now made the past seem almost quaint by comparison

"All that I am, I give to you," Elizabeth swore fervently, more tears brimming her eyes and making her vision swim. She gave a sharp grunt of surprise as he swivelled his hips, changing his angle so that he slid over untried and tender spots deep within her. Excitement surged in her blood, flames that tore through her and left a searing path of rapture in their wake. In that instant, she could feel every pulsating inch of him embedded inside...the slight trembling in his thighs...the harshness of his breathing. The awareness of their connection, body and spirit, transcended both joy and sexual gratification, and pleasure began to coil tighter and tighter within her.

He found her lips again, his rough kiss searing her soul and pushing her over the edge. Her body seized around him, racking spasms rippling through her and robbing her of her very senses. Her own voice rang in her ears as she shrieked his name, bucking beneath him as he continued his carnal assault on her body and mercilessly prolonged her climax with shallow, tormenting strokes.  
"'Lizabeth! Look into me eyes!" he demanded, seizing her hair and bunching it into his fists. "See who it is as brings ye such sweet release!"

Her tears ran unchecked now but she blinked them away as best she could, finally staring helplessly into the face of her ravenous lover. "Hector...please!" she gasped. "It's too much...I can't...I can't..."

Rivulets of sweat ran over his brow as he shook his head, his thrusts deeper and harder. "'Tis heaven...to be buried...so far within ye. Almost as though... ye were made...fer me alone. So...damned perfect..."

Elizabeth felt herself spiralling higher and higher, burning so hot that she felt sure she would explode into a million pieces. And then thought became impossible as she was swept away again on the crest of fulfillment so exquisite that it rendered her utterly mute. A hoarse cry broke from his lips as her overwhelming completion triggered his in turn, and he crushed her in his arms as his body convulsed within hers, his seed spurting in hot, relentless waves against her womb.

Drenched in sweat and quaking in the aftermath, Hector slowly moved off of her, winded from his efforts. Not wanting to be separated so soon, he scooped her up against his chest and rolled over with her so that she was sprawled across his body. They lay in serene silence, sated and content, watching as the first rays of dawn began to brighten the eastern sky and herald the arrival of Christmas Day.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 - Sweet Interlude **

The tropical sun eased in through the window, bathing Elizabeth's face and forcing her to blink blearily into late morning's shimmering light. She should have been down in the kitchen hours ago, stoking the fires so the goose would cook in time for Christmas supper, but it was so indescribably wonderful to lounge in bed for a change. Besides, what was food when compared to the sensation of hot, bare male skin against hers…or the heaviness of a covetous arm thrown over her waist…or the contented snore of a man, utterly spent from loving her so well?

Smiling contentedly, she closed her eyes again and snuggled into the warmth of Hector's embrace. It was a serene moment of perfect happiness, she thought as she began to drift off again, lulled back to sleep by the enticing caress of the sunbeams. That she would find herself so blessed, especially when she had tried very hard over the years to ignore the bond that had been forged during that one night…well, it was more than she could have hoped for…

_Barbossa's hand was enticingly firm on the small of her back as he escorted her through the heavy double doors and into his quarters on board the_ Pearl._ As he secured the bolt behind them, Elizabeth moved further into the dimly lit cabin, drinking in the dark woods and heavy brocade draperies with an emotion bordering on nostalgia._

When she had last found herself here, it seemed a foregone conclusion in her mind that the formidable pirate captain was intent on roughly divesting her of her maidenhood before they reached the Isla de Muerta. Ignorant as she was then of the curse that guaranteed he'd find no fulfilment in the depraved deed – and as such, had left him stripped of any desire to pursue it – she had plunged a jagged silver knife into his chest in a frantic attempt to preserve both her virtue and her life.

She looked down, half expecting to see dark splotches of his blood still marring the intricate pattern of the shabby Persian rug beneath her feet. How strange to consider that a man such as that – a man she'd once have gladly killed given half a chance – would become her hero when her heart cried out for one most. And it was stranger still that she now stood willing to surrender to him that which she had protected with such self-righteous fervour.

In the end, Barbossa didn't even have to attempt an artful seduction. Instead, it was his candour and kindness that broke down all of her stoic defences and left her desperate for his affections. That and his ability to see the truth of her innermost feelings, she amended inwardly. How he could do so when no other man in her life could was certainly a mystery, but Elizabeth wasn't about to waste time pondering it when she could be facing her last night on earth.

Strong arms possessively encircled her waist, rousing her from the isolation of her thoughts. Elizabeth allowed herself the luxury of relaxing back into Barbossa's comforting embrace as he nuzzled at her hair. "Have dreamt of holdin' ye thus since the first time ye set foot on me ship," he whispered darkly. His chest rose and fell against her as he inhaled deeply, his hot breath on her neck making her shiver delightfully from head to toe. "Counted meself doubly cursed that I'd found a woman of such beauty, yet could savour neither the delicate touch of her hand nor the soft scent of her body back then."

"And now? When you finally have me, my hands are marred with calluses and I reek of third-rate rum. What say you to that?" she challenged mischievously, glancing over her shoulder at him and noticing that he'd doffed both his hat and kerchief, leaving his head bare. The change in his appearance made her feel strangely shy, so unaccustomed was she to seeing him without the ever-present trappings of his position. Elizabeth turned her face away, hiding her odd discomfort by running her hands over the thick fabric of his coat sleeves.

Barbossa laughed and grasped her hips, spinning her around to face him so fast that she had to grab onto his coat to keep from stumbling. "I say, 'Lizabeth Swann," he drawled, his blue eyes narrowing as he gave her a salacious leer, "that t'would take a great deal more than a few blisters and the smell of cheap liquor to dampen me lust fer ye."

"Is that so?" Elizabeth teased back, trying to shake off her childish hesitation as she wreathed his neck with her arms and forced herself to meet his eyes once more. She was disgusted by her own reticence, particularly when she'd already revealed her eagerness back at the hall. What did she think – that he would lie with her while he remained fully dressed, hat and all? Far more than his hat would be left behind before the night was through...

"Aye, that be so. 'Course, if'n ye wish to avoid offendin' me with the disagreeable stench of yer clothes, perhaps you'd best do away with them altogether." He arched an eyebrow suggestively as he dragged his hand over her waist and up her torso, deftly flicking open the buttons of her vest with thumb and forefinger as he went. She held her breath as she watched him work, enthralled by the subtle yet swift progress of his hand as her heart raced with anxious anticipation.

As he unfastened the last button and separated the panels of her vest to reveal the flimsy shirt beneath, he lightly grazed her aching nipples. Elizabeth was startled by the unfamiliar shock of vivid sensation and instinctively stepped back, protectively folding her arms over her bosom before she even realized what she was doing. Barbossa's brow furrowed in puzzlement for only a few moments before understanding dawned.

"Ah, girl," he laughed softly, his arms dropping to his sides. "Ye had me fooled, what with all yer bold banter. As many a man as ye've had vyin' fer yer favour, never once had I considered that ye might remain an innocent."

"And so what if I am?" she retorted angrily, forcing herself to lower her arms. Her cheeks blazed hot with embarrassment and her eyes stung as if she might cry. For some reason, she couldn't decide what to do with her hands and after some consternation, awkwardly settled them on her hips. "There must always be a first time...I didn't think you would mind and I certainly didn't think you would mock me for it."

Barbossa's grin disappeared, and his stare grew darker and more intense. "Ye misunderstand, 'Lizabeth. Knowin' that ye be untouched ain't what ye might call a deterrent. Bein' the first to see ye flushed with arousal, the first to bring ye true pleasure…what man could resist? " He sighed, tilting her chin up so until their lips almost met and she had no choice but to look deeply into his blue eyes. "But ye should have told me straight off that ye've not yet been bedded. Such a situation calls fer more...care…than be me usual custom. I be a knave and a rogue, but I'd not have ye hurt or frightened as I take ye."

"I'm not naïve, Captain," she huffed, shoving his hand away. "I'm constantly surrounded by men of both unrestrained urges and the freedom to pursue them. There isn't a lewd act I haven't witnessed...and so the fact that I've not yet indulged my own desires doesn't mean I'm ignorant of what is involved. You needn't treat me like some swooning damsel."

She moved to cross her arms over her chest again but he forestalled the defensive gesture by gently taking hold of her wrists. Despite some token resistance on her part, he gradually drew her closer until she was snuggled up against him, their bodies pressed together from breast to thigh in an inescapably licentious manner. "There be seein', and then there be doin," he muttered, leaning his hips against hers enough that she was patently aware of the impressive bulge of his arousal. "And while 'tis true that ye've caught sight of ill-bred louts ruttin' in dark corners like beasts, ye might as well be claimin' that ye know the taste of fine French wine when ye've only ever sipped watery grog. A terrible misconception at best, but fortunately one easily remedied – by the right company."

"And that would be you?" Had she not been so intrigued by the solid feel of him through her breeches, she might have laughed at his enduring arrogance.

"I suppose ye'll have to weigh that fer yerself, missy, but I've not been found wantin' before." Barbossa lifted one of her hands to his mouth and delicately kissed her fingertips while pinning her with a searching, ardent gaze. The warm press of his lips was astonishingly sensual, and she couldn't hold back a surprised gasp as his tongue darted out to lick at her fingers, the resulting tingles causing all the tiny hairs on her arm to rise up.

"I really have no basis for comparison, though." It was getting increasingly more difficult to exchange clever remarks, mesmerized as she was with watching him delicately suck the tip of her pinkie in between his teeth. As he swirled his tongue around it in an entirely captivating way, he touched off sparks deep inside that left her legs weak and her mouth dry. "How will I know if you are the right company?"

After one last caress of his tongue, he slid her finger from his mouth and then brushed his lips lightly over her palm, tickling sensitive skin with his whiskers. "Trust me, 'Lizabeth," he promised, his voice low and his eyes shadowed with lust. "When I'm through with ye, ye'll have no need to doubt it."

He leaned into her, tenderly taking possession of her lips once more. The kiss started softly, all inquisitive exploration and subtle tasting, and Elizabeth found it profoundly stirring. With a ragged sigh of submission, she wove her arms around his waist and clung to him as he grew far more demanding, and she swiftly found herself short of breath and light-headed. When Will had kissed her, it had been with reverence and affection, but never had it left her feeling quite so dizzy - or quite so desired. Barbossa kissed her as though he craved nothing so much in life as the sweetness of her lips, the flavour of her mouth and the slickness of her tongue entwining with his.

Maybe she was a swooning damsel after all, she dazedly reflected as he gently ended the kiss and gazed at her from beneath eyelids at half mast. The world certainly seemed less stable, and whether it was from the lack of air or from his heated passion, she couldn't say. Elizabeth only knew that she wanted something more…and she wanted it now.

"I would not draw away," she pledged, happily lost in the swirling mists of her desire, "should you to wish to touch me again, Captain."

He shook his head and gave her a wry look. "And so we be back to formalities? If'n ye want somethin' from me, Cap'n Swann_, then ye'll be usin' me given name. Heard ye say it back at the hall when first ye set out to seduce me, so I be fairly certain ye remember it well enough."_

Elizabeth blushed again, ashamed that her deeply engrained habit of thinking of him only as 'Captain Barbossa' had persisted even in such intimate circumstances. He was undoubtedly in command on the deck, but in the bed chamber, it was clear that he wanted to leave his rank behind and be spoken to as she would any lover. "Forgive me. Will you touch me…Hector?" she replied meekly.

"Nay, ye must say it as though t'were more than just a word," he insisted gruffly, spearing his fingers into her hair and tugging until her scalp began to smart. "Say it as though ye were beggin' me. As though ye'd not suffer havin' any other man in the world layin' his hands upon ye."

While it should have hurt to have her hair pulled thusly, the mild pain somehow served only to enhance her physical longing. In that moment, Elizabeth discovered that she didn't have to pretend anything - she needed him to touch her with such desperation that she was ready to tear off her clothes and deliver herself into his ready grasp. "Hector," she whispered pleadingly, closing her eyes as she said his name the way she knew she should have from the beginning. "Hector...oh God, please touch me."

He groaned unevenly, releasing her tresses and running his hands down the curve of her spine. Finding the swell of her buttocks, he shaped her pliant flesh with strong, greedy fingers. "Well, seein' as ye asked so prettily, t'would make me naught but a scoundrel to disappoint ye now."

Elizabeth seized his face in her hands and kissed him hard, ravaging his lips as she rolled her hips against his in an effort to relieve the heavy pulsing that had settled between her legs. Hector responded by clutching her more tightly against his groin, the rigid heat of which could not be disguised by the few layers of clothes that hampered their efforts.

"Give me all that you have to offer," she murmured into his mouth, her fingers raking through the wavy bristles of his beard. "This...this isn't enough."

His expression as he drew back to look down at her was one of smug victory. "Long have I waited fer ye to say such a thin' to me," he whispered, working his hand up beneath her shirt so he could palm her breast and tease her throbbing nipple with his thumb. Rather than retreat as she had before, Elizabeth leaned into him and surrendered to a need so powerful she could barely begin to comprehend it.

His hand was a searing brand against her bare skin, its contact new and strange and overwhelming. When he flicked lightly at her nipple with his fingernails, she cried out and grabbed at his shoulders, both stunned and elated at the startling bursts such simple contact ignited deep in her body.

Hector trailed graceful fingers across her chest until he found and cupped her other breast just as firmly as he had the first. Elizabeth's eyes closed and her head lolled back as she arched wantonly into his kneading grasp. Each time she took a harsh little breath, her erect nipple rubbed against the rough skin of his palm and grew tauter still. The sublime sensations that swept through her rendered her helpless, so much so that she swayed slightly on her feet.

Before her legs gave way altogether, he caught her around her waist with a sturdy arm. "T'was a damned fool of a man as let ye slip away," he crooned as he walked her backwards to the alcove where she knew his bunk lay. "So sweet, so eager...he knew not what a prize he had."

She didn't want to think about anyone else, least of all Will Turner. It was so much easier to believe that for one night alone, there was only she and Hector Barbossa...a pair of lost souls finding comfort in their baser longings, with no commitment and no assumptions to cloud their lust. "I am no man's prize – I choose my own fate," she uttered hoarsely, caressing the solid planes of his chest and savouring the feel of the hard, whipcord muscle still so frustratingly hidden beneath his clothes. His heart drummed beneath her fingertips, its thundering pace belying his seemingly controlled demeanour. "And I might remind you that it was I_ who choose_ you_ tonight."_

"That ye did." Hector pulled her into another kiss, prompting a needful moan as their lips melded and he sought her out deeply. Elizabeth grabbed the lapels of his coat and shoved it over his shoulders, anxious to find the warmth of his skin under her hands. He released her only long enough to shrug the coat off and let it slide to the worn planks at their feet. With trembling fingers, she unbuttoned his waist coat as quickly as she could while he yanked impatiently at her vest, urgency building for both of them as they shuffled towards the small, curtained sleeping nook.

By the time he swept her through the fringed drapes and into the shadowy dimness of his bed chamber, their clothes had been strewn behind them, scattered in a haphazard trail across the cabin floor. Hector's newly exposed flesh was hot against hers, almost as though he was gripped by fever. She gloried in the radiant warmth of his body as he embraced her passionately, crushing her breasts against his bare chest and pressing the fiery column of his sex insistently into the slight swell of her belly.

Elizabeth buried her face into the crook of his neck, taking in his bracingly masculine scent. He carried with him the wind-washed tang of the sea, the hint of leather, and the faint woodsy odour of the ship herself – but beneath it all, there was something more, a smell that beckoned to her on a purely feminine level. The more she breathed in it, the greater her need seemed to grow. It took her a while of losing herself in his scent to understand it was his arousal that was calling to hers, a primal summons that she could not help but answer.

Without warning, he shoved her back against the wall and trapped her with the weight of his body as he kissed her with fresh enthusiasm, his hands left free to explore her as he wished. With a low predatory growl, he slowly sculpted the contours of her ribs, the crescent of her waist and the slope of her hips as though he was painstakingly memorizing every inch of her skin.

Elizabeth slung her arms around his neck, her head lolling to the side as his lips tracked a hot, wet line along the line of her jaw and over the curve of her throat. A tiny, cool shiver shot through her whenever his mouth met her skin and she tightened her hold in expectation as his fingers stroked their way to the sparse nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs. Although he barely skimmed the coarse little hairs with his fingertips, something tightened deep within her at the feathery brush and she moaned in fervent need, wriggling her hips against his palm.

"Open yerself to me," Hector insisted softly, gently but firmly wedging his knee between her legs until she complied. He raised his head so he could watch her as he pressed the heel of his hand against her mound, his eyes dark with wicked purpose and his nostrils flaring as he slid one long, elegant finger deep into her dusting of womanly hair and grazed the moist folds within.

The jolt of pleasure was so dazzling that she was dumbstruck. Sure that her heart would burst, she rose up on the tips of her toes as every muscle in her body constricted under the gradual onslaught. His finger barely moved, but the lazy circles he was tracing around her entrance and the delicious pressure he was applying to the tiny swelling above were devastatingly arousing. Her shaking hands tightened on his nape and she panted for air as the sensations grew almost unbearable in their intensity.

A sudden rush of terror caught her by surprise and her breath hitched in her lungs. No man had ever laid hands on her the way in this way, coaxing indecent cries of encouragement from her with every hungry touch. That someone as powerful as Hector Barbossa could wrest that control from her was frightening to say the least. She stared at him wide-eyed and sunk her nails into his shoulder, unable to speak and incapable of controlling her body's traitorous reactions.

"Shhh," Hector whispered soothingly, shaking his head and wincing only slightly as she cut painful red crescents into his skin. "No harm will come to ye at me hand. God knows I've given ye countless reasons not to trust me in the years since we first met, but in this I swear I'll not fail ye. Let go and feel what it means to learn the mysteries of yer body. Give yerself over to me – but know that if ye ask, I'll go no further."

As his low, calming words flowed over her and she accepted that he would honour his pledge, her apprehension melted away. Elizabeth gradually relaxed and it wasn't long before she found herself tilting her hips to meet his shameless caress. Flashing a quick smirk of satisfaction, he ducked his head and nuzzled at her breast, tugging her stiff nipple with his teeth until she thrust her chest forward, anxious for him to take more of her into his mouth. Her eyes rolled back as he enthusiastically accommodated her wordless demand and she slumped against the panelling, lost in the rising tide of bliss that moved through her with each pass of his lips and tongue and each skilled stroke of his finger.

Just as she believed she would surely splinter into a million sparkling pieces if he continued, Hector slowly withdrew his hand from between her legs and stood straight, leaving her confused and frustrated. As her eyes fluttered open and she focused on his face, the noise of protest she was about to make was cut short as his lips slanted over hers again. "So close ye be," he purred, and she could feel his sly grin against her mouth. "Would ye have me stop?"

"No...no, please don't," she practically wept, trying her level best stay on her feet rather than slide down the wall into an overwhelmed heap. She clutched his shaggy braid in her hand to keep him from pulling away, holding tight as she kissed him, lingering on the generous curve of his bottom lip.

As she sampled his mouth, Hector smoothed the curved line of her spine with a silken caress that caused her to shiver anew. Curling his hands around the globes of her arse, he lifted her until her feet were no longer touching the boards. Instinct had her wrapping her legs around his waist, and they both groaned out loud as his impassioned manhood nudged against the threshold of her pulsing quim.

"Feel me, 'Lizabeth," he demanded, his lips parting in a gasp and his eyes squeezing tight. "Feel how ye make me burn!"

"Oh God, yessss!" she rasped, savagely rubbing herself against his unbelievably rigid length until he sucked in a hissing breath between his teeth. His cock bucked against her and she felt a trickle of wetness as her body prepared for his most welcome incursion.

They tumbled together onto the downy quilts on Hector's bed, sinking into the sumptuous covers with arms and legs still entwined. He turned her onto her back and planted a hand on either side of her head, trapping her beneath him as his breath broke harshly over her face. His sea-blue eyes were wild and his arms shook as he fought to continue drawing out the exquisite torment.

"Be ye ready for me?" he ground out, hooking an arm beneath her knee and parting her legs further. "Are ye set to take from me all that ye've wrought?"

"You know I am," she gasped tremulously, lifting her hips in offering. "Give me everything...take whatever you want. Just...just...please do something!"

His eyes narrowed and a slow grin crept over his face. "How's about a kiss first?"

Had there been a dagger handy, Elizabeth might have been tempted to stab him repeatedly for prolonging her agony. What game was he playing at now? "Kiss me, then! Whatever pleases you!"

Willing to accede to whatever his whims might be in the hopes of eventually being granted fulfillment, she reached to draw his face down to hers. He shrugged off her hand, though, and gave her a devious smile as he shifted backwards on the bed. "Nay, not that kind of kiss," he said wickedly, glancing pointedly between their bodies.

Too taken aback to respond immediately, Elizabeth watched in shocked surprise as he retreated, kissing, nipping, and licking a path over the tense muscles of her midriff. "Are...are you sure you want to do that?" she stammered, her ardour cooling slightly in the face of uncertainty. What he wanted to do to her seemed...well, it seemed unseemly!_ "Why? Why would you want to...kiss me...there?"_

His beard brushed lightly over the soft skin of her inner thighs, and his breath puffed over her damp pussy as he chuckled. "Because there be no tastier confection, no exotic fruit so succulent as can match a woman's own nectar." His eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled deeply, causing her to flush from head to toe as her modesty belatedly flared to life. "Gods, but that's good. I must have the sweetness of yer honey flowing o'er me tongue, girl."

"Hector," she warned in attempted dissuasion, her heart skipping in alarm as he laid his hand over top of her quim and spread his fingers so that he had unhindered access to her secret self. "I don't...I don't know that I can do this..."

He paid her no heed at all. "Such a pretty slit," he murmured quietly, fingering her swollen petals with reverence. "Beautiful all over, ain't ye? I knew ye would be, though. Heavenly perfection, me angel."

Once more and despite her growing protests, her body strained under his touch and scorching need shot through her veins. "Please!" she begged. "This isn't...it isn't...OH!"

Her hips jerked and her neck arched back as she screamed in unrepentant ecstasy as Hector tongued her mercilessly, seeking to drive her mad as he licked and sucked at her as though he was starving and she was his only means of sustenance. Elizabeth felt her body flowering with longing, seeking more and begging to be filled.

She panted out his name in short, helpless gasps as he diligently set about discovering what caused her to writhe under his delightful assault and what caused her to cry out most loudly. Why on earth had she ever hesitated when first he suggested doing this to her? She felt as tightly strung as a violin, with every gentle scrape threatening to break her apart entirely.

When he jabbed and flicked at the little pearl at the top of her cleft, her hips came up off the bed and Hector had to hold her down, his fingers clutching almost painfully as he forced her to lie still. She seized hold of the covers and twisted them until her fists hurt, the euphoria building in her like wind filling the sails of a fine ship. Tears spilled over her cheeks as she flew higher and higher, sure that her heart would simply stop from the perfect rapture of the moment.

With a sudden primitive roar, Hector flipped her onto her stomach and pushed her head down, his hand firm on the back of her neck until she stopped resisting. He used his thighs to push her up onto her knees and then cupped the core of her fervent heat in his hand, his fingers probing the tender entrance to her channel. With an animalistic snarl, she pushed back against him, wordlessly demanding that he fulfill the promise she could feel in the heavy, hot weight that was now nestled between her buttocks.

"Fergive me," he groaned, worshipfully stroking her bottom with trembling fingertips. "I can withhold no longer."

"Please, come into me!" Elizabeth beseeched, her voice cracking from raw emotion. She inched her knees further apart in invitation, desperate to relieve their needless anguish.

He gripped her hips hard and dragged her back until the blunt crown of his cock pushed through her slick folds. Taking himself in hand, he rubbed against her core again and again, coating his sex in the silken fluid that he had coaxed from her body. She held her breath, a rivulet of sweat sliding over her cheek as she quivered with erotic expectation.

Pausing, he leaned over top of her and stroked her back almost apologetically. "'Lizabeth, I will try me best to take ye with ease, but ye must know that yer first time...I cannot help what pain ye must endure as ye lose yer innocence."

His reluctant forewarning prompted a response half way between a sob and a laugh. "What could be worse that being left on the edge like this? I need...oh, please...Hector..."

As the last syllable of his name left her lips, Hector slowly thrust into her, shifting side to side as he worked himself deeper. Although he'd barely begun to penetrate, Elizabeth gasped as he stretched her wide, her virgin sheath stinging with every inch he sank into her.

"Christ...'Lizabeth," he rasped, his breath as sharp and hoarse as though he'd been running. His member twitched heavily within her, making them both moan. "A thousand times have I thought about how t'would feel to claim ye, but never could I have imagined...like velvet...so soft, so tight!"

Heat rushed over her skin but words failed her. She was right, he had_ wanted her – but he made it sound like so much more than a casual thought on a cold, lonely night. The thought made her ache, but it wasn't just the consuming physical ache of lust; rather, there was also a dull pain deep in her chest that signalled her own loneliness...her understanding of what it was to want someone so badly only to be deprived._

She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip as despair threatened to ruin the moment. "More," she choked out, forcing back everything but the enthralling feel of the man who was so caringly, so tenderly showing her what it meant to be consumed with pleasure. "Don't hold back. I am not so delicate as you might think."

Hector gave a soft, breathless laugh. "Still the firebrand," he teased affectionately. "Ye needn't always be a warrior, lass...t'is the woman I seek tonight."

Reaching down to where their bodies were joined, he found her throbbing bud and pressed at it rhythmically with his fingertip. Every nerve in her body lit up as though she'd been struck by lightning and she mewled quietly, her hips swivelling in time with the tempo he'd set.

Abruptly, he plunged into her to the hilt and she felt a tearing flash of pain that was quickly forgotten in the midst of the delicious sensations surging through her nether regions. He was heat, he was stone...he filled her in a way she'd never dreamed possible and she instantly stilled, wanting to hold onto the feeling forever...

"'Lizabeth! Wake up!"

The harsh whisper intruded into her carnal dreamscape, and she murmured sleepily as she was forced half-aroused and annoyed from the most wonderful and deeply sensual memories she possessed.

A hand covered her mouth and Elizabeth's eyes flew open as she started in panic. She clawed at the fingers until she realized it was Hector who was trying to ensure she wouldn't make any noise when he roused her. He held a finger to his lips in warning and drew his hand away.

"What's happening?" she breathed, her pulse racing from being awoken in such an unexpected way. Hector's expression was deadly serious, letting her know instantly that something was definitely wrong.

"We've an intruder downstairs. Listen."

They stared hard at one another and Elizabeth strained to hear above the rapid thud of her heartbeat. Perhaps it was just the creaking of the house...but no, there it was. Footfalls, doors opening and furniture being shifted about – the old floors on the main level kept few secrets. Whoever the person was, he or she was moving furtively from room to room, obviously searching for something...or someone.

"William?" she suggested in a hopeful whisper knowing even as she said it that the steps were far too heavy to be made by an eight year-old boy.

He shook his head, not bothering to waste words trying to dissuade her. He eased himself off the bed and crept soundlessly to where she'd tossed his breeches the night past, his own footsteps muffled by the rug. "Have ye any weapons at hand?" he asked as he tugged them on and fastened the buttons.

She nodded and tossed off the covers, pointing at the wardrobe before leaning over the edge of the bed to retrieve her gown. It had been ten years ashore and what seemed to be a lifetime since she last called herself 'pirate,' but she had never taken security for granted. A pistol, loaded with powder and shot, was always at the ready.

"Get to the boy and the two of ye stay put," he murmured, all business as he checked that the powder in the barrel was dry enough to fire. "Lock the door behind ye and don't ye come out 'lessin I call fer ye."

"The hell I will!" she hissed, standing up on the mattress and yanking on her gown. She knotted the sash with quick, jerky movements that left little mystery as to her feelings. "You forget who you are speaking to! I'm not letting you go down there alone!" Fear fed her anger – she didn't just give Hector her heart only to lose him.

Hector turned on her, his blue eyes glinting dangerously and his lips pressed into a grim line. "Ye'll do as I tell ye! What do ye suppose will become of our son if'n the worst should occur? Cold comfort will it be to know he's alone in the world 'cuz his mother hadn't sense enough to keep her wits about her!"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue but there was nothing to say. He was right – she'd spent eight years keeping William safe and happy, and as much as she loved Hector, she knew that she would never forgive herself if something happened to put their child in peril.

She swallowed back her tears and stretched out her hand to him, wanting at the very least to touch him before he went down to investigate whatever danger threatened. A low squeak from the stairwell caused both of them to freeze in place just as Hector's hand enveloped hers.

It was too late.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 – A Turn of the Page**

Hector slid stealthily along the wall beside the door as the sound of footsteps grew closer, his pistol gripped firmly in his right hand and the sleek muscles of his chest tensing in readiness. Elizabeth dropped to her knees on the mattress, clutching the covers nervously. She had no doubt that Hector would protect both her and William with his life, but she desperately wished for a second weapon within easy reach so she could aid in her own defence.

As the trespasser reached the landing and started down the hallway, Elizabeth took a rapid mental inventory of all the men she'd boarded in the house over the years; she had been so careful about the type of individual she allowed to reside beneath her roof that she found it difficult to believe any of them would have the gall to invade the sanctity of her home in this way. Her instincts had served her well thus far, and the few who dared cause a commotion had most often been escorted from the premises without incident by Sarah's father. Even those rare mischief makers had proven more rowdy than dangerous, and she'd not had any trouble for many a month.

The other possibility she was forced to consider was that it was someone from a more distant past...someone who held a grudge against the erstwhile King of the Brethren Court rather than Eliza Turner. It might be a truly dangerous person, inclined to employ sinister methods and possessing a far darker disposition than the occasional rabble-rouser. Despite the pains she had taken to establish her new identity, it was entirely possible that she'd been found out – the _Black Pearl's _regular anchorage in Barbados alone would have been more than enough to reveal their presence to her many enemies, never mind the fact that the fearsome Captain Barbossa had let it be widely known amongst the pirate community that Bridgeport was under his personal protection. And yes, their discretion had admittedly waned as the years had passed and nothing untoward had occurred. As it turned out, such complacency might well end up costing them both dearly.

Elizabeth held her breath as the footsteps halted just on the other side of her door. A few moments of agonizing silence followed before the doorknob slowly began to turn, the brass squeaking loudly. At last the door swung open but despite the lateness of the morning, the hallway remained mired in shadow and all she could make out was the silhouette of a man, nothing more than a slightly darker outline against the deep, gloomy background.

"Who are you?" she demanded, sudden anger displacing her paralyzing fear. "How dare you force your way into my home!"

"I've come for the heart," came back an ominous, hollow whisper. "I know it's here. Where have you hidden it?"

Her pulse raced and horror pooled in the pit of her stomach at the words that had been spoken. The man who now stood outside her door was demanding the one thing she could never surrender. As devastating as it was to imagine Will Turner spending an eternity at sea, it didn't compare to the thought of him being at the mercy of the same kind of manipulative whims Cutler Beckett had indulged in when he controlled Davy Jones. And there would be no reason for someone to seek out the heart except to use it for the most diabolical of purposes.

For one brief, agonizing moment, Elizabeth wondered if the man in the hallway wasn't actually Will Turner himself, rendered almost unrecognizable by the toll that his grim position had taken on him. After all, no one aside from Will knew that she'd been tasked with protecting the heart until his return. She dismissed the thought almost in the same instant – there was just over a year remaining until Will was permitted his single day ashore. It was unlikely that Calypso would waive that condition, considering how determined the goddess had been to keep Will for herself.

But if it wasn't Will in her house, then who could it be? Perhaps it wasn't such a stretch to imagine that someone intent in seizing power over the captain of the _Flying Dutchman _would think to look for her first. Who else would he have trusted to look after such a precious object but the woman he loved? And if she was being honest, it wouldn't take a genius to see past her carefully crafted back story – 'Eliza Turner' wasn't exactly the cleverest alias ever devised.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about!" she retorted imperiously, trying to ignore the sick dread that threatened to break her. "There is nothing for you here and I strongly suggest you leave before I summon the authorities!"

The dim figure shuffled closer to the threshold while Hector remained out of sight, poised and ready to pounce. She had to force herself not to look at her lover; revealing his presence would cost them whatever slight advantage they had. "You've kept it well these many years, but the burden is no longer yours to bear," intoned the stranger, his voice mournful as he gradually stepped forward into the light and revealed himself. "Surrender it to me now and I'll take my leave of you."

Just as she was struck by the shocking realization of exactly who stood before her, Hector tackled the man from behind and brought him to the floor with a jarring crash. "Hector, stop!" Elizabeth cried, scrambling off the bed and flying over to the men wrestling on the floor. "Release him! It's Bill Turner!"

Hector's surprise was enough for her to easily pull him off of Bootstrap's sprawled form. Elizabeth then slipped her hands around Turner's arm and helped him to his feet as Hector shuffled back a few feet and narrowed his eyes in suspicion at their visitor. For Turner's part, he simply stared back at Hector, the unexpected sight of his former captain and the dramatic change in Hector's appearance clearly rendering him speechless.

When Elizabeth had last come face to face with Bootstrap Bill Turner, he and the crew of the _Dutchman _had been inexorably shambling towards the body of his son, set to carve out Will's heart and bind him forever to the ship. His face encrusted with crustaceous sea life and his body embedded with shreds of the hull, Will's father had hardly been human any more, his servitude further manifesting itself in his physical form every hour he'd spent aboard. But now that he was more man than beast, the strong resemblance between parent and child was inescapable. From the slope of his shoulders to the set of his jaw and the shape of his face, Bill Turner provided a glimpse of what Will might have looked like had he lived past that fateful day.

"Strange company you keep, Elizabeth," Bootstrap said to her, his rheumy eyes filling with cold displeasure he slowly took in her state of undress. "And to think I expected to find you here on your own, waiting faithfully for William. Perhaps my son's concern over your state of loneliness these many years past wasn't warranted after all."

The hot flush that rose in her cheeks felt to her like a betrayal of Hector. She was far more shamed, however, by the conclusion Turner had immediately drawn than by the reality of her situation. With one hand, she gathered the collar of her gown at her throat, growing increasingly irritated that she even felt the need to display some semblance of modesty in the face of his accusation. "Neither you nor Will know anything of my situation, and I'll thank you to keep your barbed remarks to yourself," she said icily.

"Tell me, Barbossa," said Turner, his malevolent glare shifting to Hector. "Had the green flash even faded from the sky before you rowed ashore and hiked my daughter-in-law's skirts up over her head? I must say it's quite clear from your youthful countenance that adultery with a much younger woman suits you."

Elizabeth gasped in indignation at the vile remark and Hector took a menacing step forward, seizing Turner by the lapels of his long coat and hauling him closer until his face was only inches from that of his former crew member. "Best keep a civil tongue in yer head, Bootstrap, or I might yet remove it fer ye," he snarled. "Long did 'Lizabeth stay faithful to yer son – far _too _long when ye consider his death released her from her wedding vows straight off, along with any chance he ever had of returnin' to his life on land. This ye know to be true."

Bill Turner's self-righteous smugness faltered and he shot a furtive, guilt-laced glance at Elizabeth that confirmed Hector's charge. "That's why you're here, isn't it?" she blurted. "Why you came before the ten years was up..." Her knees felt wobbly even as her voice remained strong and level. "Will knew all along he was never coming back…knew that the accord with Calypso was worthless because we weren't really married anymore once he died." She stumbled away from the men and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Thoughts swirled in her head, a whirling mix of bitterness, relief, and distress that left her dizzy.

"Aye," Turner reluctantly acknowledged, his shoulders slumping as the sanctimonious anger slowly drained out of him. "William's known since we first set sail that he'd not be returning…not beyond one day in every ten years, at any rate. Calypso made no secret of the fact that she intended to keep him forever as her ferryman...told him that there was no escaping his destiny."

"Why not tell me what happened when he first found out? I know it was impossible for him to visit me himself, but you and the other crew members do not labour under the same restrictions about setting foot on land that he does. He could have chosen to send you in his stead...all those years..."

Even as she said it, Elizabeth wondered if it really would have been better for her to know. She likely would have returned to England to give birth and then...what? The chances that Hector would have heard of her pregnancy, never mind come looking for her, would have been infinitesimal. He would not have spent the time with her and William that he did...he would not have finally forced her to admit to her true feelings. She would not now have what she did if she had been aware from the very start that Will was irretrievably lost to her.

"He held onto the slim hope that he'd somehow figure a way past the goddess' deception." Turner gave a woeful shake of his head and pivoted towards the door, almost as though it was too painful to look at her as he spoke. "He told me to tell you that he loved you, girl...he loves you still. He asks that you forgive him for keeping the truth a secret for so long, but it was no easy thing to accept that he had to let you go. It took him many a year to decide, but he sent me today to take back the heart...and in so doing, put an end to your futile wait and give you back your life."

Elizabeth's reply died in her throat at the sudden patter of small feet pounding down the hallway. "Mama! Wake up!" William cried happily as he ran towards her room. "It's Christmas morn! I forgot to hang my stocking at the end of the bed when we got home, but perhaps Father Christmas..."

"William, wait!" she called out, rushing towards the door with her arms outstretched in the hopes of stopping her son before he came upon the strange tableau...she already had too much to try and explain to him. Her warning came too late, however, and he launched himself into her arms with a giggle as he flew through the door.

"_William_?" Bill Turner breathed, his eyes widening in surprise.

The joyful grin that had appeared on William's face upon seeing Hector faded quickly as the boy realized someone else was in the room with his parents. He disentangled himself from his mother's embrace and backed away until he was standing in front of his father. Hector put a comforting hand on William's shoulder as their son warily watched the haggard stranger who stared at him so intently.

"You have to remember that we came back very late last night, sweetheart," Elizabeth said, trying to keep her voice light. "Father Christmas came with your gift, but he had to hide it downstairs in the pantry when he found that your stocking wasn't ready. Why you don't go and see if you can find it? I promise that we shall join you just as soon as we are finished speaking with...our guest."

William took a step away but then hesitated, clearly uncomfortable about leaving his mother in a situation so obviously fraught with tension.

"We need that fire stoked in the kitchen hearth, boy, if we're to have any kind of Christmas feast a'tall today," Hector said gruffly, steering William towards the door and away from what was sure to be a barrage of questions from Turner. "Be sure ye feed the flames before ye go seekin' out whate'er trinket ye've been left." Somewhat reassured, William gave them one last backward glance before heeding their words and making his way to the main floor. Once the echo of his footsteps had faded away, Hector closed the door to ensure that what was to follow could not be overheard.

"That boy..." Turner said with heart-breaking hopefulness. "Is that my… grandson?"

"No. He is _our _son...mine and Hector's," she replied softly but definitively, knowing the truth of William's paternity would wound Will's father even further.

He gaped aghast at her and pressed a hand to his chest as though the pain and disappointment that her words had inflicted was too much to bear. "No! It can't be! But you...you named him William...! He must be…!"

"When I first found that I was with child, I didn't know who the father was. Yes, I named him after Will...after the man I believed to be my husband. But it became very clear as he grew who had sired him. Will was my first love, but Hector...he was my first," she revealed unrepentantly.

"Jezebel! _Harlot_!" roared Turner in sudden fury, his brow furrowing and his hands tightening into fists. "I should have known Barbossa lied when he said you'd been faithful...I was a fool to believe it!"

Even while she understood the source of his spiteful accusation, the vitriol was more than Elizabeth could stand. She stepped forth, halting Hector's outraged advance with a curt gesture. "No, Bill – I loved your son! When Will proposed in the heat of that horrific battle, that is why I hastily accepted...I desperately wanted to resurrect what we'd meant to each other even if we had only a few hours left to live. The truth, though, is that our love had begun to unravel long before then!"

"It was because of me, wasn't it? You said as much in the _Dutchman's _brig," Turner sneered, his eyes flaring with anguish and loathing. "He promised to set me free...he set that quest above you. He was a man of honour and you… you condemned him for it."

Elizabeth shook her head. "You're wrong. We began keeping secrets from one another long before then – with nothing but the best of intentions, to be sure, but that ceased to matter in the end. The result was that the trust between us was ultimately destroyed. And once that happens...well, how do you keep love alive in the wake of that, however noble the motivations behind the deception might have been?"

"So you threw his love aside and instead succumbed to this lecherous swine's advances." Turner's lip curled as he glowered hatefully at Hector.

"I pursued Hector, not the other way around," she clarified firmly, meeting her lover's serious blue gaze. She sighed at the memory of his tender embrace on the deck of the _Consolación_. "I felt utterly alone and completely shattered...I had lost so much, Will's esteem and affection included. Hector offered me strength and comfort in that desperate moment, but I was the one who sought more."

"Then your love was ever false! You'd not have been so quick to take another man to your bed otherwise! If my son still had a beating heart in his chest, learning of your disloyalty would surely break it!" he spat angrily.

"Who are you to judge me, you who deserted your young wife and son in favour of a life of piracy?" Elizabeth countered heatedly, jabbing a finger at him. "I took my vows seriously, regardless of my misgivings beforehand! Because of that commitment, I allowed both my son and his true father to suffer for years on end! What of the vow you took to love and protect your wife and family, Bill Turner? Did you come back for your child after his mother died? No! The only thing you ever did for Will was to send him a cursed piece of Aztec gold, an act of sedition rather than love…and in doing so, you set him on the path to the existence in which he now languishes!"

Turner reeled back and his expression crumbled as though she'd struck a physical blow. "If I could take his fate upon myself instead, I would," he cried despondently, hiding his face in his hands. "If I'd known that Jones would strike him down…if I'd only been of sane mind in that moment, I would have stopped that monster and gladly accepted the consequences if it meant that my boy would live."

"What we might have done," she said, dispassionately regarding the man who had fallen to his knees before her under the weight of his lament, "means nothing to anyone now. Whether our actions could have altered events is something we can never know. What I do know, however, is that I have been given a chance at a better life than I deserve, and my son will have the love and guidance of his father as he grows to become a man. So I won't apologize to you or anyone else for the choices I've made, regardless of how you view them."

"And so what will you have me tell him?" Turner challenged tearfully, wiping at his eyes with the back of his coat sleeve. "When I return with the heart, he will surely ask after you. He has endured so much already, I can't bear to make his suffering worse!"

"Tell him that he did right by me in reclaiming his heart and setting me free," Elizabeth said more gently. "Tell him that I kept it safe and I will always remember our time together with fondness, but that his kindness means that I can move on with my life. You may tell him…" She stopped, her words briefly choked off by the lump that had formed in her throat. "Tell him that I will pray that some day, he is granted a reprieve by Calypso and can finally find the happiness he so richly deserves in the mortal realm." "

Where be the chest, 'Lizabeth?" Hector said forcefully, grabbing up his shirt from the floor and impatiently spearing his arms through the sleeves. "We've had more than enough turmoil o'er the past few days; I think it best that Bootstrap take charge of his cargo and make good his departure."

"In the attic." She returned to her bed and sat down again, feeling drained by the emotional stress of the exchange. "Padlocked and concealed beneath some old clothes in the large trunk in the northwest corner."

Handing over the pistol to her care with a look that warned her not to trust Turner for a moment, Hector brushed her brow with a quick kiss and headed down the hall to fetch the heart from its hiding place. As soon as he'd left, Bootstrap Bill Turner rose up slowly and made as if to follow. He paused by the door, however, and gave her one last sad, weary look.

"Why him?" he queried in a low, deep voice. "Why Hector Barbossa? Given all that he did, all that he was and is…why would you choose him? I don't understand."

"He saw something in me worth loving," she answered, unflinchingly meeting his puzzled gaze. "He has seen me at my very worst and at my very best, and his devotion has never wavered. He even loved me enough to marry me to another man when he thought that was what I wanted…and loved me enough to act as a father to a son I long pretended wasn't his. You hate who he was, the tormented creature who exacted such terrible vengeance on you – and I do understand, for I too feared and hated him once. But once his humanity was restored, I saw the man as he really was - and saw the passion and love of which he is capable. I would never have admitted it to myself all those years ago when I first went to him, but I knew it then, too. We are well-suited to one another, Mister Turner…as smart a match as ever was made."

He grunted with unconcealed disbelief. ""May I ask one last question before I go…just to satisfy a matter of curiosity?"

"You want to know what happened to him – why he looks so different," she guessed, giving him a reticent smile when he nodded.

"How is it that he appears to be so much younger than when I saw him last? Even accounting for the fact that he'd not have aged while the curse was still upon us, I know for a fact he's seen the tail end of nearly twice as many years as you. What kind of sorcery would erase the mark of so much time?"

"It took him so long to find what he wanted most in life, he felt he needed to find a way to recapture those years so he could spend them with us," she explained reluctantly, uncomfortable in sharing their secret. Who would Turner tell, though, that would care? Only the dead were passengers aboard the Dutchman, and its immortal crew had no need of the Fountain. "I'll not reveal more except to say that during a recent voyage, he found something that made his transformation possible. It was a gift for which I will forever be grateful, for it means that we have more days ahead of us than I would have dared hope for."

He sighed heavily. "So it's not just a change on the surface, then. Perhaps now that he has a chance to live those days differently, he'll not make the same mistakes again. It's been my experience, though, that men like Barbossa are slow to change."

"I hope you're right, because I wouldn't want him to." Elizabeth stood, uncocking the pistol and tossing it onto the bed. Despite his earlier anger, she knew she was in no danger from Bill Turner. "Now if you'll excuse me, I will see to my son and the preparations for our morning meal. Farewell, Bootstrap. I hope that you, too, will eventually find joy and peace." She made her way down the stairs, and left her past behind without so much as a last glance back.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 – Bring Me That Horizon**

"Mama, who was that strange man in your room today?"

Elizabeth paused in tucking the covers around her son, his question making her heart lurch. She'd managed to fill Christmas Day with enough bustle and happiness to distract William, but the calm, quiet moments before bed had given him time to think and he clearly would be put off no longer.

Meeting his sleepy but solemn gaze, she sighed and took his hand in hers as she settled on the edge of his mattress. "His name is Bill Turner. He sails with his son Will, the man I told you was your father these many years past."

He regarded her serenely before continuing. "When I came in, you and Captain Bar...I mean…both you and Da looked very angry with Mister Turner. What did he do to make everyone so cross?"

Elizabeth smiled softly at the way William stumbled over what to call to Hector, just as she had at one time. The sudden change in how he thought of the man he'd only ever known as 'Captain Barbossa', would take a while to sink in. "He said some rather unkind things to us, darling...and your father and I took offence. We were finally able to come to an understanding, though, and it turned out just fine in the end. Bill Turner will not be coming back, so you needn't worry about it happening again."

William nodded and yawned, but although the long hours were catching up with him, he wasn't ready to let go of the subject yet. "Why would you say that Will Turner was my father when he wasn't? I even have the same name as him. Why would you pretend like that?"

Elizabeth swallowed hard and gave his hand a little squeeze. "I married Will before you were born and when I found out that I was expecting a baby, I believed that you belonged to him and so I gave you his name. It wasn't until you were a little older that I realized my mistake, and by then...well, I thought it was better if I didn't tell anyone about it. But I was realize now that it was very cruel of me to keep the truth from you and Da – you both had every right to know. I hope someday I'll be forgiven for telling such a hurtful lie."

"Are you still married to him… to Will, then?" he asked with a frown, seemingly worried that Will might yet make an appearance and whisk him and his mother away from Hector.

"No," she replied slowly, not sure quite how best to frame her response. How could she tell him that she was a widow when in fact, Will was still very much alive…in one distant sense of the word, at any rate? "I haven't been married to Will for a very long time. Bill only came to see me because I still had something of Will's in my possession, and we thought it only right that it be returned to him since I am no longer his wife."

William pondered her answer. "If I'm not a Turner, I want a different name," he finally declared emphatically. "I want to be a Barbossa!"

Her spirits sank. "I would like nothing more than for you to share the same name as your father," she said cautiously. "But while we reside in Bridgeport, we must continue to be very careful. There are few people who would look kindly on having the son of a notorious pirate living in their midst. I'm afraid it would be a dangerous thing to let such a secret slip."

"But...but then we're still letting everyone believe a lie!" he cried in disbelief, sitting up in bed. "That's not fair!"

Elizabeth took firm hold of his shoulders and gave him a stern look. "No, it's not...and if I could change it, I would. But if it became known that your father is Hector Barbossa, our very lives could be at risk. And it's not just the townsfolk we'd need worry about, sweetheart – a pirate captain has many ruthless enemies who wouldn't think twice about threatening or even harming us to get back at him. Such is the life he leads and we must take appropriate steps to look after ourselves when he cannot be here to do so."

"I would keep you safe, Mama," William said sullenly, his lip protruding as he fought back his tears. "Da could teach me to fight and I could take care of you while he is at sea."

"Oh, William," she replied sadly, enveloping him in her arms and rocking him slightly. "I know it is a terrible thing to ask of you, but you must swear to me that you will keep the secret of your heritage to yourself so long as we live here. It's the only way."

"I promise not to tell," he sniffled miserably, "but it's still not fair."

"I know," Elizabeth crooned, leaning forward and settling him back amongst his covers again. She pressed a loving kiss to his cheek and smoothed back his hair. "For now, though, it shall have to be enough that the three of us know the truth."

He rolled away from her without another word, hunching his shoulders and hiding his face in the blankets so she couldn't see him cry. Downhearted, Elizabeth reluctantly left her son alone with his sadness and made her way back downstairs to finish tidying up after their Yuletide celebrations.

* * *

As beautiful as the serpentine tongues of flame doubtlessly were, Elizabeth barely noticed their writhing dance as she stared at the fire crackling in the sitting room hearth. Her embroidery sat forgotten in her lap, distracted as she was by her conflicting thoughts. She hadn't even realized that Hector was speaking to her until he crouched beside her chair and rested a hand on her knee.

"What troubles ye, lass?" he said. "Not still thinkin' upon them harsh words as Bootstrap had fer ye, I hope. I should have hacked an apology out of his weaselly hide before I let him leave."

"No, that's not it," she reassured him. She rested her head against the cushioned back, gazing across at him as she affectionately snagged a lock of his russet hair and looped it around her finger. How long, Elizabeth wondered, would it take for her to get used to the change the Fountain's waters had made in his appearance? Part of her would always miss the way he'd looked when she had first seen him. "I know why he said what he did. You have to admit that from his perspective, the evidence against me was fairly damning. He was simply looking out for his son's best interests...much as I am trying to do."

Hector scowled in puzzled consternation. "How so?"

She sighed unhappily, knowing that a quarrel was inevitable. "William wants to be acknowledged as your son, Hector...he wants your family name."

A slow grin spread across Hector's face. "And so he should," he said, looking proud enough to crow. "About time we set the record straight, says I. Might be we could do somethin' about the 'William' part of it, too."

His smile faltered when he noticed the guarded expression on her face. "I told him that wasn't possible, at least not yet," she answered quietly. "Hector, you have to understand..."

His eyes shaded to smoky dark as they did only in moments of great passion or burgeoning anger. There was little mystery as to which emotion now fuelled his reaction. Wounded, he left her side and stormed across the room. "Oh, I see. Ye'd rather have him go about with people thinkin' that he was sired by another man? Might as well have kept the secret of the lad's birth to yerself, then, and not e'er have confessed the truth to me if'n no one else is to know it!"

Elizabeth stood and calmly set her embroidery aside. Although her heart ached for him, she had to remain the voice of reason. "How do you imagine the people of Bridgeport would react once they learned whose son was living here?" she asked, trailing after him. "Or what plots the Royal Constabulary might hatch upon discovery of that little detail? And we've not even begun to address the fact that your son would be considered quite the bargaining chip amongst those holding a grudge against you."

"No harm has befallen ye thus far," he retorted sharply. "My protection carries a weight ye fail to appreciate, 'Lizabeth..."

"Our _anonymity _is what has given us the liberty we currently enjoy amongst the inhabitants of Barbados," she corrected, sidling close enough that she could soothingly stroke his arm. Although his muscles twitched beneath her fingers, she took it as a good sign that he didn't immediately try to shrug off her touch. "If they knew who we were, what we mean to you, we would lose the safe haven we've enjoyed all these years. They would turn on us in a second – turn us _in _as having consorted with a known pirate – and the constables would use us to trap you. I can think of no greater prize for some ambitious officer than to finally capture the captain of the _Black Pearl_...and no better way to lure him in than to imprison those most precious to him."

"Not if they value their lives," he growled, his nostrils flaring. "T'would be the last day on earth for any man as would dare lay a hand upon either of ye."

"All right, then...if you insist on arguing, let's imagine that by way of your reputation and threat of possible retribution alone, the citizens of our little town allowed us to continue living here in peace," she went on. "The worst threat by far comes from the quarter you know best. Your son is your greatest weakness, Hector, as he is mine...and you can rest assured that other pirates, especially your enemies, would see him in exactly that same light. They would only need to wait until you made sail and left us on our own..."

"Enough!" he barked. "Enough. Ye've made yer point. So long as I fly pirate colours, I'm to have no son."

The words hit her like a volley of knives, sharp and painful. "Oh, my beloved – no!" Elizabeth stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers and waited until he coolly deigned to meet her tear-rimmed gaze. "He is yours in every way that matters. He is as proud to be your son as you are to be his father. If not for the risks he'd face in your absence, I wouldn't hesitate a moment to tell everyone that he belongs to you. That I belong to you."

With a disbelieving sneer, he tetchily pushed her hand away before turning his back to her. "The only way to be with ye is to continue sneakin' in and out under the cover of darkness, then, whene'er the wind blows me in this direction," he said, his bitterness filling every syllable. "What point was there in seekin' out a second chance by way of the Fountain if naught has changed?"

"I'm sorry that I've hurt you again," she whispered, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his back as she hugged his resistant body close. "It is only the thought of what might happen to our son if we're found out that holds me back. I would gladly give up all I possess if it meant that I didn't have to hide the truth any longer. You have to know that."

He sucked in a sharp hiss of breath and tensed. Instantly she went on the alert, sure that he must have heard something…or someone. It was inconceivable that Bill Turner would have returned, but perhaps someone else had followed the trail and discovered her location. She waited and listened carefully, trying to pick up on whatever had captured Hector's attention. "What is it?"

Hector pivoted and forcefully seized her upper arms, making her gasp in alarm. There was a sudden, excited gleam in his eyes, though, and his sly grin was back. "Would ye...give up everythin', that is? If ye were to have that very chance, would ye proclaim from the highest mast that ye bore me a son? Would ye tell the world of yer love fer me if ye could do so with the certain knowledge that William would not pay a terrible price o'er it?"

"Yes, of course," she said hesitantly, trying to follow whatever path his thoughts had taken. "But what…?"

"Then I've the solution to the problem as vexes us," he stated with absolute certainty. "The answer was before us all along. Come with me, 'Lizabeth, both you an' the lad...leave this life behind and return to the _Pearl_!"

Elizabeth almost laughed incredulously before she realized he spoke in earnest. "Take refuge on the _Black Pearl_? Hector, really!"

"Ye've the soul of a sailor, girl...motherhood ain't changed that. I know that ye long fer them bygone days; a man would have to be blind to miss them wistful gazes ye cast out o'er the waves when ye walk along the shore. Ye've got nothin' to hold ye here." He arched his eyebrow knowingly, daring her to refute his assertion.

She nodded slowly, unable to argue his point. "Since I settled in Barbados, it's as though I've been marooned; I'm lost without the roll of the waves beneath my feet. But my longing for the sea is rather beside the point...I have to do what is right for William. What kind of mother would I be if I willingly consign my son to a life of piracy and constant peril?"

"A better mother than one as would see her boy deny his legacy and always keep to the shallows, meek an' fearful. Aye, there'll be dangers ahead should ye choose to join me but least ways William will know his father and learn what he needs to stand on his own two feet. I ain't sayin' that he need be a pirate – if when he comes of age, he decides that he wants a different sort of life fer hisself, then I'll not keep him from seekin' his fortune elsewhere. But he has to be shown what it means to be a man and that won't come from hidin' from the world behind his mother's skirts! No son of mine will ferever cling to the shadows and live in fear and shame of admittin' his true name – I'll not have it, 'Lizabeth!"

Hector was breathing hard, chest puffed out and eyes wide with the indignant fervour of his declaration. She knew the look – she had seen it often enough when he was at the helm in the midst of a terrible storm, or fighting a bloody, flashing sword duel, or arguing his case before the Brethren Court. She was as utterly riveted by him now as she had been then, struck to her very core of her being by his confidence and intensity. The sight was enough to set her heart to racing and her blood aflame. No man could ever dare hope to compare.

But to allow so young a boy to join a pirate crew, even one as brave and experienced as Hector's – it was unheard of, and for good reason. Every man aboard a ship filled an essential role, and the crew as a whole worked together like cogs in a great machine. Having a child underfoot could prove a fatal distraction for everyone, William most of all.

She'd never had the occasion to take William out on the water and so he understood nothing of the endless risks. A single rogue wave might sweep him away...a swinging boom or bit of rigging could cause grievous injury...an ill-timed shot from an enemy vessel could end his life before he had time to even cry out. Every possibility was more terrifying than the last, and that was without those more sinister aspects that came from living as an outlaw.

When push came to shove, though, would he be happier with a life ashore? Her reluctance to become friendly with the other residents of Bridgeport had kept them isolated within their own community, and William could lay claim to very few friends. There would come a time when the companionship of his mother simply wouldn't be enough. He would lament the absence of his father and in his eyes she'd be to blame for that gap in his life, regardless of how solid her reasons might be. And as she had admitted herself, they were no safer being left behind – it was most likely just a matter of time until the truth was discovered, and she and William would be at the mercy of whoever found them out. At least on board the _Pearl_, there were always men with guns and swords at the ready should such a threat emerge.

Depriving Hector and William of the chance to explore the wonders of the world together just to assuage her own fears would be selfish and unforgivable. Who was she to keep William from charting his own course...or to keep father and son apart? Despite what Hector said about letting William make his own choice in the end, she knew that from the minute he stepped on board, the boy would inevitably be entranced – he'd love the sea every bit as much as she and Hector did. He would thrive on the freedom of being beholden to no man save himself…his nature so mirrored Hector's that it was impossible to believe otherwise. She had to trust Hector, trust that he would teach William all he needed to know about both sailing and fighting – the man would not have lived half so long without extensive knowledge and skill.

And yes…if she looked past her maternal concerns, she had to own up to yearning for the same life for herself: a future at Hector's side, facing whatever challenges awaited them over the next horizon. Not to mention the nights...gods yes, the promise of a thousand sultry nights together in Hector's bed, the sky outside the whorled windows bejewelled with countless stars and moonlight flooding over their bodies, moving as sensually as the ocean below...what woman in her right mind would refuse?

It was the right choice...the only choice. Life as a pirate was laden with risk and uncertainty, but years of constant separation from Hector were a worse prospect by far.

Colour rose quickly in her cheeks, and it was all she could do to keep a straight face and not laugh in eager anticipation of what Hector might do in light of the decision she'd finally made. Determined to prolong the moment, however, Elizabeth gently extricated herself from his hold and twisted away from him, hugging her arms as though still beset by doubt. "There is only one question left to be answered, then," she said softly, reaching out to stroke the frayed velvet along the top of her armchair.

"Spit it out," he answered gruffly, obviously expecting to hear yet another reason his idea was entirely out of the question.

"Do you think I'll have time to climb to the crow's-nest and profess the truth of my love and your fatherhood _before _we set sail?" she asked, peeking back over her shoulder so he'd not see the smile she was fighting so hard to hide. "Or would you prefer that I hold off until after we've cleared the harbour?"

There was hardly time to blink before Hector had crossed the short space between them, stopping her joyous laugh short with his bruising kiss. "Ne'er will I give ye cause to regret it," he swore, clutching her so tightly that she struggled to draw a proper breath. "Always will I cherish ye and keep ye safe."

She speared her fingers through the thick locks of his hair and held him fast while she returned his kisses with equal passion. "Cherish me, yes...but don't believe for a moment that I will play the passive maiden, standing off to the side while you throw yourself into the fray. I am a pirate in my own right, as you well know, and I intend to fulfill my duties just as well as any other member of your crew – although as a former captain and pirate lord, I would make an excellent first mate."

"I must inform ye that I don't make it a habit to bed members of me crew," he chuckled, his breath enticingly hot against her cheek as he nuzzled her temple. "If I make ye the exception, I can't help but wonder if ye'll be equally willin' to take orders in the confines of our quarters."

The fact that he already referred to his cabin as 'their' quarters made her heart take flight. "Well, I would say that it very much depends on the nature of the order, _Captain_. Perhaps you should test the limits of your command now so there will be no surprises once we've actually reached open water."

His eyes glinted deviously and she couldn't stop from trembling under his licentious scrutiny. "Aye, I concur. Fer starters, I'll be havin' ye disrobe and stand ready fer inspection."

"Remove my clothes? Here and now?" Elizabeth glanced uneasily at the tall windows on either side of the room. Although the curtains had been drawn at dusk, there was in all likelihood enough of a gap in the panels to allow any curious passers-by more than an eyeful of what was taking place within.

Hector looked heavenward and sighed. "Tsk tsk. Already ye be questionin' me and here we're still on dry land," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. "A rather inauspicious start, says I. Don't exactly bode well fer future deference."

She tilted her chin defiantly, but she had no intention of flouting his demands. She had opted to surrender control to her lover and she wanted him to use it to good effect. Besides, the risk of discovery was unnervingly arousing for a reason she couldn't quite fathom. "Fine. If you'd have me bare for the entire world to see, then we shall do it your way."

"We shall do it yer way, _sir_," he corrected shrewdly.

Shuffling back a few steps, Elizabeth fixed her gaze on his as she found the smooth, cool ribbons of her dressing gown at her throat and languidly fingered them. "Aye, _sir_," she whispered lowly, loosening the bow and then gradually tugging on the loose ends of the ties until her robe gaped open to reveal her lace-edged, low-cut shift. As she dropped her arms, the gown flowed silently down her body and formed into a satiny puddle around her ankles.

With the firelight at her back, Elizabeth knew that the pale shift she wore would be practically transparent, a fact that clearly wasn't lost on Hector. He swallowed so hard that she could hear a click from his throat, and she smiled demurely as she watched his fingers curl into tight fists. She settled her hands on her thighs, waiting until his gaze dropped before she slowly caressed her limbs through the wispy fabric. The feel of it against her body was soft and sensual, and she closed her eyes as the material slid over her skin as lightly a tropical breeze.

Elizabeth followed a winding upward path, her fingers gliding over her navel and then up between her breasts. The harshness of Hector's breathing increased as she skimmed her hand over one breast. As soon as she found her nipple, it tightened almost painfully and she moaned faintly, fingering the turgid little point until she felt a swift surge of liquid fire swirl between her legs.

"Take it off," Hector demanded sharply, and she dazedly opened her eyes to see that her indecent display had put the first cracks in his composure. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow and his hands were clenching convulsively, as though he needed to be touching her but was determined to hold back until the game had run its course. "No more teasin' or I swear I'll tear it to pieces!"

Although the hunger on his face fanned the flames deep in her centre, Elizabeth simply quirked her eyebrow and tried her best to appear unflustered. Deliberately tarrying, she slipped a finger beneath one of the straps and eased it over the swell of her shoulder. The slip sagged slightly on one side, enough that Hector shifted impatiently but not so far that anything was revealed. Careful to hold the garment in place against her bosom, she repeated the action and bared the other shoulder as well before slowly turning to show Hector her back.

"'Lizabeth," he warned just as she released her grasp on her bodice and let her arms fall to her sides. The material drifted over her slight curves and fluttered to the floor, leaving her shockingly nude in the middle of her sitting room. The air surrounding her was warm – hot, in fact, from the combination of humid weather and the blazing fire she'd set – but still she shivered from expectation and longing.

She sensed his approach but forced herself stare straight ahead, waiting him out. Her heart pounded like a primitive drumbeat, growing louder with each step he took towards her. A soft exhalation that caressed her neck finally signalled his proximity but she remained as still as her quivering limbs would allow.

"Me beautiful girl," he rasped, brushing the long line of her spine with his caloused fingertips and making her gasp with a combination of relief and yearning. "Made the mistake once of lettin' ye go...ye can lay odds that won't be happenin' again."

As she leaned back, the coarse feel of his clothes was an erotic contrast to her naked skin. The cotton of his shirt and linen of his breeches offered a delightful friction that gave her gooseflesh and she rubbed herself against him to enhance the sensation. "Touch me, Hector...show me how you feel."

"That be 'sir' to ye, missy...and ye'd best remember that 'tis I in command and not ye." Despite his chiding words, he bracketed her hips with his strong hands and pulled her snugly against him. Elizabeth bit back a smile of purely feminine satisfaction when she felt his steely hardness against the part of her arse and slowly wriggled her hips from side to side until his breath caught.

"Oh, yes _sir_," she countered, "It is clear that you are most certainly in command."

"Wilful temptress!" Hector snarled roughly, his voice a deep, exciting tremor that skittered through her body. "What would ye have me do in the face of such insolence?"

Her head fell back against his shoulder and she snaked her arms around his neck so she was arched in unmistakable invitation. "Anything you want, _Captain_," she offered pleadingly, licking at the tiny beads of perspiration that had formed above her lip. Her every muscle vibrated with need and she writhed against him in an attempt to further hasten his attentions.

His wonderfully graceful fingers coasted up over her midriff until he caught her breasts in the cradles of his palms and boldly stroked her, catching her nipples between his knuckles. With deliberate leisure, he tugged at her tender flesh until she gasped sharply in savage pleasure.

"Many was the night I spent at sea with the hope of neither rest nor peace, tormented as I was hour upon hour with memories of the night ye gave yerself to me...the night ye surrendered yer virtue to a man most unworthy of such a gift." His confession was rushed as he relinquished the weight of her breasts and with burning hands, instead sought out the warm, fragrant haven between her thighs. "And although the mere thought of sinkin' meself to the hilt in yer sweet, soft depths was always enough to bring me off, there was no true satisfaction to be found in such half measures. Ye spoke last night of wantin' to come to me bed them nights I slept but a door's distance from yer own...but ye must know, t'was a battle as I've ne'er faced before or since to keep from forcin' me way into yer room and ravishin' ye!"

Elizabeth moaned longingly as molten need surged through her again, leaving her wet and throbbing. "You can have me now, in any way you please. Don't hold yourself back...not tonight, not ever again."

He slipped a long finger into her, slowly and deeply. Physical and spiritual need melded in the centre of her womb and she instinctively thrust towards the press of his hand, rendered mindless by overwhelming desire. Tension shimmered beneath her skin and tears of frustration trickled from the corners of her eyes.

"Always do I aim to be the gentle lover, 'Lizabeth," Hector growled ravenously, his thumb dragging over the engorged nub of her arousal, "but ye bring forth the beast in me each time. Ye leave me far too helpless in the grip of me lust to be anythin' but what I am."

Before her legs could give way from beneath her, he hoisted her up in his arms and hauled her over to the woven fireside rug. Indelicately depositing her on the floor, he stretched out beside her, rapidly tearing at the panel of his breeches until he'd freed himself and his engorged cock was lying hot against her thigh.

Touching him suddenly become essential, and Elizabeth was caught up in an uncontrollable craving for the sensation of his smooth, fevered flesh. It was as though every restraint and inhibition had been swept away, and she was besieged by an aching, urgent yearning that threatened her very sanity. She ripped ferociously at his shirt, knowing only that she had to strip him bare and not caring if she tore the expensive garment to shreds in the process. Taking his cue from her frenzied actions, Hector hurriedly yanked it off over his head and with a shuddering sigh, arched his back as he savoured the bliss of having her hands move ravenously over the naked expanse of his chest.

"I love you because you are impossible to tame," she panted, throwing her leg over his hips so she could straddle him. His thick length seared the delicate folds of her quim and she rocked forward, letting his shaft slip through her wet, swollen petals of flesh. "I'd not have you any other way."

"Ride me, girl," he begged hoarsely, all pretence of control abandoned as he clutched at her flanks and bucked his hips. "Take me as deep as ye dare. Already ye have me ready to burst like some callow lad – I can't be waitin' any longer!"

Some distant part of her urged her to make sweet, unhurried love to him in the golden glow of the flickering fire...to relish the romantic setting and prolong the experience. But her needs were too great, her passion far too heated to pay heed to the idea of such languorous pleasantries. As she encircled his pulsating member with her hand and sank down upon him, inch by glorious inch, she came to understand that it would always be that way for them...what they felt for one was far too explosive for either of them to contain.

"Dear lord!" she cried as he stretched her to her very limits, the girth of his cock making her feel as though he might split her in two. With a surge of power, he drove upwards and forced himself deeper still, and she clamped her thighs tight to keep from being thrown aside even as she was gloriously impaled on his rigid sex.

Her mouth gaped open as she fought for both air and words. The wool of the rug cruelly chafed her knees as he dug bruising fingers into her thighs, dull pain mating with ecstasy as she rose and fell on the seat of his hips.

"Fuck me harder!" he roared, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he matched her thrust for brutal thrust.

She did as he asked, chasing her climax as roughly and vigorously as she dared. Sweat-sodden strands of hair clung to her forehead and cheeks as she lifted upwards and then plunged herself down on him again, making them both shout out harshly in time to their primal rhythms.

Elizabeth's chest began to burn from lack of air and her legs trembled at with the intensity of her exertion. As though sensing that her strength was waning, Hector suddenly twisted beneath her and rolled over, pinning her to the floor under his restless weight. With jarring, quick strokes, he buried himself in her slick passage over and over, his cheek pressed to her chest and his breath coming in husky grunts as he took frenzied possession of her body.

When the first wave of euphoria hit her, it was with all of the stunning violence of a typhoon, propelling her ever higher and tearing her apart at the same time. With a keening cry, she surrendered to the wracking spasms rippling from her centre outwards and let them wash over her, the sensations so powerful that they bordered on agony. Hector suddenly reared up, tossing his head back and making a sound of raw, masculine victory as he pounded against her, his face contorting as he found his own release and shot his essence into her still-pulsating channel.

Spent, he propped himself above her and sucked in uneven breaths, gazing down at her with a mixture of awe and gratification before kissing her deeply and warmly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close as her post-coital shivers gradually began to subside. "What ye do to me, love," he sighed, indolently nipping at her earlobe. "If I hadn't made that stop at the fountain, ye might just have finished me off with such spirited congress."

Elizabeth smiled and stretched lazily, wincing slightly at the abrasions left on her backside and knees by the friction of the hearth rug. "And to think that you had qualms about my willingness to follow commands!"

"I stand corrected," he laughed, pressing a kiss to her brow as he eased himself off of her and collapsed at her side. "Ne'er again will I doubt ye."

"I'm not sure I believe that," she replied mischievously, turning so she could sling an arm across his chest and entwine her leg through his. "I think we'll find ourselves in frequent disagreement for as long as we are together – you are far too stubborn for me to expect otherwise."

"Aye, we be very much alike in that," he shot back, running his fingers indulgently through her soft hair.

Sated and happy, she snuggled against him and closed her eyes. "So what are our plans, Hector? When do you want to haul anchor and leave port?"

"Tomorrow. We go out on the evenin' tide."

Elizabeth lifted her head and frowned. "Tomorrow? That's not much time to wrap up everything here. Why hurry?"

"I see no need to delay our departure. T'is a poor cap'n as indulges his own desires but deprives his crew of the chance to do the same, ye know. The men will be growin' impatient – our holds be full of swag and they've waited long enough to spend it. We'll put in a few provisions and make sure we've enough to get us to Tortuga. Besides, ye'll need nothin' more than a few clothes and whatever small mementoes ye hold dear. We can't accommodate any more than that."

He was right – she and William could walk away and be none the poorer for it. What few needs they'd have would be easy to satisfy once they were under way. "Tomorrow," Elizabeth repeated, the thought causing her heart to lift. Back at sea again, all three of them together...and another voyage would begin.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 – On Familiar Waters**

_The morning after their first night together…_

* * *

_Elizabeth had already been awake for hours, staring through the blurry windows of the _Pearl _as pale sunlight spilled over the lip of the crater and down the slopes to surround the ships in Shipwreck Harbour. The day had come upon them far too soon and it wouldn't be long before the various and sundry pirate crews were up and preparing their vessels for battle._

_She lay as quiet and still as she could so as not to disturb Hector's slumber, but the narrow bunk was cramped and she desperately wanted to work out the aches that had come from remaining in the same position for such a long time. Neither of them had moved at all during what little rest she had managed; she had clung to him through the night, her head tucked up beneath his chin and her arm and leg draped over top of him, flesh against flesh. The steady beat of his heart against her cheek and the soft caress of his breath on her hair had eventually lulled her to fitful sleep, but her anxiety about the approaching conflict refused to give her any real respite regardless of Barbossa's reassuring presence. She'd managed to doze for only a few minutes at a time as the hours had slipped silently by and brought the dawn ever closer._

_All of what Elizabeth now faced...where she now found herself, figuratively and literally...could be credited to a single transgression. Had she not stolen the Aztec coin from an unconscious Will Turner during that crossing from England, her life would have taken an entirely different path. Although the _Pearl _might still have attacked Port Royal in attempt to retrieve the gold, she'd not have been sought out by Hector's men...would not have been spirited aboard the pirate ship...would not have been abducted by the fearsome Captain Barbossa in the mistaken belief that her blood would free his crew from their terrible curse._

_Hector and his men would have instead taken Will with them when they found him in possession of the gold piece and his blood would have worked to restore the crew of the damned to longer life and good health. There would have been no rescue mission launched to save Will – he wasn't the child of a colonial governor, after all - no encounters with the Kraken, no dispute with Davy Jones and Cutler Beckett._

_And for certain, no night of splendid debauchery with Hector Barbossa._

_Eventually she would have married James Norrington, as her father – if not the entire settlement – had wished, and spent her days hosting tea parties, tatting lace edges for decorative cushions and bearing the Commodore's children._

_As perfectly dreadful as the very idea now sounded, there would have been two fewer deaths and much less heartbreak weighing heavily on her soul had she taken that route. Both her father and James would be alive and well, although it was true that Jack would likely have been executed for crimes against the Company the same day the gallows were repaired in Port Royal. Or perhaps not...he always seemed to find a way to escape even the direst of circumstances._

_A single childish impulse...just one aberrant decision on her part...and now the pirates might be completely annihilated by the Royal Navy and the Company. While most of civilization would most definitely not lament their demise, Elizabeth knew that the world would be poorer for the loss. As rough a collection of men – and women, she thought with a small smile – as was represented in their ranks, her respect and fondness for such spiritedness and independence grew daily. They had a freedom that few others could claim, even if they lived off the avails of honest merchants and traders. For a woman who'd been born to uphold the ideals and meet the expectations of high society without question, the appeal of such liberty was undeniable. _

_But what was done, was done. She could no more reverse time than she could predict her future, and so there was nothing for it but to live with the consequences of her deeds. All that was left to do was to carry forth and accept whatever fate had been determined so long ago by her theft of a small disc of bewitched gold._

_Hector sighed contentedly in his sleep and slowly began to stir. Elizabeth took advantage of his slight movements to stretch her arms and legs a bit before snuggling up against him once more. Whatever the two of them had found together would not last past this morning, she knew. His bed had been a temporary sanctuary at best, albeit one of unexpected erotic delight. The few fleeting moments they had left before the world came crashing down around them again were not to be wasted._

_"Hector?" she whispered, brushing her fingers along the ginger hairs on his forearm. "Are you awake?"_

_"Mmm, some parts of me rather more than others," he answered groggily. He inhaled deeply and then yawned, hugging her more closely to his side as he did his own stretching. _

_A quick glance down to where the sheets were bunched around his hips confirmed his statement and she smiled wickedly. "I'd have thought that you would have had more than enough of_that _last night."_

_"Ain't every mornin' I find such fine company in me bed. Given me advanced age, ye must consider such a firm salute to be the greatest of compliments and reward it accordingly."_

_"Must I?" she said with mock seriousness, gliding her fingertips over his chest and down the slight rise of his belly. "And what might you consider suitable recompense for such an enthusiastic response?"_

_"There be any number of options," he replied shrewdly, quickly rolling over and trapping her beneath him. His cock was hot on her thigh, and the feel of it stirring against her skin set off a slow burn between her legs that she desperately wanted him to stoke further._

_"I would favour the one that would bring us both the most immediate fulfillment," Elizabeth suggested bluntly, slinging her leg around his hip so as to draw him closer to the growing heat of her core. There was no time for play so far as she was concerned; it seemed that he needed only to look at her to unlock her most immoral desires. Any decent woman would have been mortified at the ease with which she submitted – fortunately, it appeared that one night in Barbossa's company had freed her from the shackles of decency forever._

_"Might I assume, then," Hector murmured, nuzzling at her neck and planting soft kisses beneath her ear that made her hum with pleasure, "that ye've no regrets?"_

_"My only regret is that I didn't attempt a seduction earlier in our journey," she gasped, arching her back as the path of warm, wet kisses led him to her breast. She cried out as he latched on and suckled, the pressure from his mouth and the flick of his tongue making her squirm helplessly against him._

_He was dragging his hand in a sensual trail up the soft skin inside of her leg, spreading her open to receive him, when a frantic pounding sounded at the door._

_"No!" Elizabeth moaned in disappointment, clutching his arms tightly to keep him from abandoning her. She wanted what he offered too badly to let him go without protest. "Give it a minute and perhaps they'll think you're not here!"_

_Hector groaned his displeasure, his eyes rolling in exasperation at both the intrusion and her reaction. "Let me go, girl. I must answer the summons."_

_"Just ignore it; whoever it is will go away," she practically begged. Elizabeth knew that if she allowed him to leave now, their time together truly was at an end and she would have no choice but to return to her ship. Just a few minutes more, that's all she asked...she wasn't ready to leave the comfort of Hector's bed just yet. _

_He easily shrugged off her grip and tossed the covers to the side, resting on his back for a moment to gather his wits. "If someone dares disturb me in me quarters, then there be a damned good reason fer it. I cannot let it pass."_

_Elizabeth huffed unhappily as she watched him climb out of bed and pull a sheet along with him, wrapping it around his waist on his way to answer whoever was knocking. She fell back on the pillows and punched the quilt on either side of her body with aggrieved frustration. _

_All she could hear of the conversation at the door was the low rumble of male voices, but it didn't take much imagination to glean why someone would intrude on the captain's rest at such an early hour. Sick dread pooled in her stomach – it was really happening. War was upon them, and no amount of pretending or pleasant distraction could make it otherwise._

_When Hector eventually returned, he was tucking his privates back into his breeches and had her discarded clothes slung over his shoulder. Her stomach sank when she saw her fears confirmed in the weary resignation on his face. "It's begun, hasn't it?"_

_"T'was an emissary from Teague at the door," he replied grimly, sitting on the edge of the bed and tossing her garments across her lap. "A company ship has been spotted by the sentries, concealed in the mists just south of the isle." _

_Elizabeth closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "Everything changes as of today, doesn't it?"_

_"Aye, one way or t'other," Hector agreed. The uneasy silence stretched out between them for a while before he spoke again. "Ain't too late, 'Lizabeth. Ye needn't be part of this," he said, softly stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Stay here on Shipwreck Island an' let the fight rage on without ye. I'd not see ye die needlessly."_

_She rubbed at her temple and laughed bitterly. "What, and miss the war that I declared? You know I can't do that. This is my doing. I brought this down on us and I will see it through to the end, whatever that brings..."_

_He reached out and enfolded her hand with his. "I'd expect nothin' less from the King of the Brethren Court," he said with a sad smile. _

_It felt very much like their time was quickly running out and the intimacy they had forged would disappear forever. "Hector," she said impulsively, "I want you to know...if we do not carry the day and the pirates are defeated...well, I want to thank you for last night. Not just for sharing your bed with me, but for your kindness. I would not have..." she trailed off, blushing faintly._

_"Would not have thought me capable of such? Is that what ye were about to say?" he finished for her, his eyes twinkling with amusement. _

_"Yes," Elizabeth admitted, grinning sheepishly. "You have never presented yourself as a man overly given to sentiment or compassion."_

_He chuckled wryly. "And a very good thin' that be, for I'd not hold command fer long should me fellow pirates discover that particular trait. I've the reputation of a black-hearted scoundrel to uphold, and I be trustin' that ye'll exercise all due discretion and keep me deep, dark secret to yerself."_

_"Of course," she assured him with conspiratorial smile._

_"Now," Hector went on, slowly withdrawing his hand and standing once more, "if we seek to exercise that same discretion when it comes to how ye spent yer evenin', I'd encourage ye to return to yer own ship with all due haste. Teague's messenger might even now be on his way to _The Empress _to wake ye. Better it would go fer ye if ye were there to be found, don't ye think?"_

_"So gallant," she teased, throwing aside the blankets that covered her and climbing from the bed to stand naked before him. Hunger flared in his eyes, but she saw him check it almost immediately. The time for passion had passed, cooled by the dark shadow of doom that was looming over them all._

_Moving closer, she framed his face with her hands and as she stared into his pale blue eyes, she rose on her toes to give him one last, lingering kiss. "If it turns out that this was our last night on this side of the veil..." She blinked hard at the tears that sprang up as her fears finally got the better of her and left her choking on her words. _

_He took her hands and settled them over his heart. "Ah, lass. If that be so, then t'was a far sweeter end to me life than I deserved."_

_Elizabeth stepped back and impatiently wiped the traitorous teardrops from her cheeks. "To battle, then," she sniffled, stooping to retrieve her clothes from where they'd fallen. If she delayed any longer, she was sure her resolve would fail._

_"Aye. To battle…_Cap'n_." He gave her one last ineffable look and then turned, disappearing back through the alcove's curtains to see to his own arrangements._

* * *

As she hauled herself up the rope ladder to the deck of the _Pearl_, Elizabeth paused long enough to look back over her shoulder at Barbados. Although they were anchored not far off shore, the island already seemed small, dark and distant. It had never really been home, she now realized. A refuge, certainly, and not so bad as such places went. But there was very little she was going to miss about the life she'd assembled there for herself and her son. There would be no one who would miss them – with one very important exception.

As faithful and kind-hearted a maidservant as Sarah had been to her, Elizabeth wanted to repay her with the gift of a prosperous future, and so there had been a quick stop at the law office so Elizabeth – along with Hector, posing as her recently returned husband – could sign the Cats Castle Rooming House and all its contents over to Sarah. The young woman could run the business herself and use the property as a hefty dowry in the event that she found a suitable young man, or sell the house and everything in it, taking the gold and following whatever path appealed to her the most. The deed would be delivered the next day to the small suite above the livery where Sarah was staying with her father for the holidays.

It would be a complete and utter surprise, sprung long after the _Black Pearl_ and its crew were well away. Perhaps she should have had the lawyers wrap the deed in a box with a pretty bow so as to mark it as a Christmas gift, she mused. Regardless, it was a truly gratifying way to make an exit, if Elizabeth did say so herself. The only part she was sorry to miss was the look on Sarah's face when the papers were placed in her hands.

"Sure, an' I be appreciatin' the very fine view afforded me from here," Hector called impatiently, breaking into her rapt contemplations, "but if we're to catch the tide, it might work best if we were aboard rather than clingin' to the hull of me ship."

Elizabeth laughed, glancing down to where he gripped the rungs beneath her and leered shamelessly at her trouser-clad ass. "Sorry, I was just lost in thought," she confessed, then brazenly wiggled her bottom at him.

Hector chuckled lecherously and then quickly clambered up after her. Elizabeth's heart jumped and she gave a delighted gasp of surprise as she tried to beat him up the ladder, but his legs were longer and his arms were stronger, and it wasn't long before he overtook her. He grasped the rope on either side of the rung she held and pressed himself against her, crushing her against the sea-worn side of the _Pearl_.

"Temptress! If I were of a mind to do so, I could rip me a hole in them skin-tight breeches ye be wearin' and make short work of ye, here and now!" He growled and nipped at her neck, making her giggle and squirm.

"Given the length of your...bowsprit...I don't believe you can truthfully say that there would be anything 'short' about it," she said, laughing again as his beard tickled the sensitive skin beneath her jaw.

Just then, William poked his head over the top of the gunwale. His eyes were wide with excitement and his grin spread almost ear to ear. "Mama! Hurry up! There's cannons and pirates and ...and..there's a _monkey!_" He disappeared again, no doubt racing off in gleeful pursuit of the little simian.

"Up ye go, then," Hector whispered hotly into her ear. "But I'll be takin' ye to task tonight fer yer wanton conduct."

"I shall hold you to that promise," she answered with a grin, wriggling out from under him and climbing up the last few rungs.

Even though she knew full well that the _Black Pearl_ had made the voyage to the Fountain of Youth, the sight that greeted Elizabeth when she finally hurdled over the rail and set her feet upon the deck stunned her into mouth-gaping silence.

The crew could have been drawn straight from the corps of young volunteer recruits that Commodore Norrington trained each spring, so fresh-faced and vigorous did each man appear. The oldest amongst them looked as though he'd seen perhaps thirty years pass by, if that. Strapping lads, the rest of them, and not one showed any sign of the malnutrition or disease so common amongst those who served before the mast. The difference was far more startling than she'd anticipated, although perhaps given the extraordinary change in Hector's physical appearance, she should have been expecting it.

"A good day, Missus Elizabeth," said the man she had pegged as being the eldest. He had long, dark brown hair held back in a kerchief and a broad, toothy smile gleaming out of a full beard. He also possessed a rather incongruous posh British accent. "We hadn't expected to have you join us, but we are very glad to welcome you aboard. Perhaps having you here will ease the captain's worries over your safety."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm sorry...I feel very foolish, but I can't place you. Are you certain that we've met before, Mister...?"

When a brightly coloured macaw fluttered down from the rigging and settled on the man's shoulder with a belligerent squawk, the mystery solved itself. "Mister Cotton!" she exclaimed in utter surprise, reaching out to grasp his arm. "I'd not have ever guessed...but...you can speak!"

"As I'm sure the captain informed you, he found the Fountain of Youth just recently. Depending on how much water one consumed, any number of physical wounds could be undone. It had been close to two score years since I'd lost my tongue, and so I took just enough water to heal that injury. I must tell you, it's caused no end of confusion for poor Monty, here, to hear me voicing my own thoughts once more." Cotton scratched the sparse feathers beneath the bird's chin until the creature's eyes closed in bliss and it cooed happily. He looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Ah! Captain! I see you finally partook of the waters yourself!

"Not everyone drank the same amount, then?" she asked Hector as he came to stand beside her, his arms slipping possessively around her waist. Elizabeth bit back a smile, understanding that the gesture was a message to the men...and knowing that it was completely unnecessary. As much as the crew respected Hector for the living they all enjoyed, they feared his wrath even more...and it would truly be a fool who would risk the captain's thunderous vengeance by trying to make untoward advances on her.

Hector and Cotton looked at one another knowingly, and the latter politely excused himself so he could return to the helm. "The rules of the Fountain were very clear as to that...a dram to erase ten years," Hector explained, guiding her towards the quarter deck. "Some aboard were young enough that they didn't need to take more than a single dose. There were a few as required a half measure more, and then those like me an' Cotton who took two."

"Cap'n! Are we to be bringin' the cargo from the dinghy aboard?" A young man who Elizabeth guessed was all of about sixteen, slender as a reed and his face all but concealed beneath a thick mop of blonde hair, shifted back and forth nervously. She squinted at him for a few seconds before recognizing him as a much younger Ragetti.

"Have you gotten your eye back, then?" she asked, ducking down in an attempt to see beneath his bangs.

With a flick of his locks, Regetti shyly met her gaze with the faded blue of both of his eyes. "Aye, miss! Wore the patch fer a week before I figured out I wuz lookin' at the inside of it!" He gifted her with a crooked grin, pleased that she'd both recognized him and bothered to ask.

"Master Ragetti, we shall indeed be bringin' the luggage and provisions aboard with the dinghy," Hector interjected. "But I'd have the cabin boy help ye with that particular task. I've not seen him since we embarked, and here I'd thought he'd be most anxious to welcome me back...tell me, where be Jack?"

Elizabeth whirled around. "Jack? You can't mean…Jack _Sparrow_?"

Hector grinned fiendishly. "Aye, the very same." He put his hands on his hips and hollered, "Master Sparra! Ye'll get yer weevil-infested, spindly-arsed hide afore me this minute or so help me, ye'll be bailing bilge below decks fer the next six months and won't resemble anythin' so much as a drowned albino rat before I allow ye out into the sunshine once more!"

There was the distinct whir of rope running through a pulley, and the three of them turned to see a young boy with a head of bushy, dark hair swooping down gracefully from the riggings to land with a thud on the quarter deck above them. "You needn't shout," he sniffed loftily, leaning on the railing and trying to appear nonchalant. "I'm not deaf, Hector."

"Now, Jaaaaaack...ye know very well that be '_Cap'n_' to ye," Hector replied, crossing his arms but speaking with infinite patience, as if to an actual child. "If ye persist in showin' off in front of company, I'll be left with little choice but to send ye to the brig with no dinner. Fer a week."

Elizabeth's eyes went wide in astonishment. It was definitely a day for surprises, but none rivalled the remarkable transformation of Jack Sparrow from a man to a child of no more than twelve.

And there was no question it was Jack. While it was true that he had no facial hair to speak of and he lacked the usual braids, kohl and other adornments, the grace with which he moved and his sleepy expression was unmistakable.

Unable to stop herself, she slowly climbed the stairs so that she could get a bit closer. Jack was clad in the same loose-fitting shirt he always wore, but now the long, bulky sleeves were gathered up around his elbows and the shirt hung down past his knees. The tattered cuffs of the short breeches he wore were just visible below the hem of the shirt, and his feet were bare and dirty. Despite his ragged appearance, though, she was taken aback once she got a clearer look at his face. Cherubic and dainty, he had been a truly beautiful child. Or was, as the case may be.

"Good heavens!" she said, approaching Jack with her hand extended as though testing whether what she was seeing was real. "He can't be much older than William!"

"Lizzie? That you? S'been a long time, luv," crooned Jack, giving her a lustful smile that might have been charming on a grown man but was incredibly disconcerting on a little boy's face. "Might I say, yer as pretty as a picture, even after all these years." He sashayed in her general direction, holding out his arms. "How's about a kiss fer old times' sake, eh?"

The adult diction threw her off, even as she saw the familiar cunning in Jack's deep black eyes. "I think not." She backed away in disbelief, shaking her head and looking at Hector. "What on earth happened?"

"Jack thought he was mighty clever, cutting out that fancy map to the Fountain and leavin' me with naught but a hole," answered Hector haughtily, climbing the steps until he was at her side again. "And while he did find Ponce de Leon's wellspring long before we did, what he failed to realize was that them rules I told ye about, regardin' the necessary dose, were printed on the piece of map he left behind. Drank hisself nearly two drams o' water before he realized what the magic was doin' to him. Must say, I be glad he finally stopped sippin' when he did...I ne'er was much good with pulin' newborns."

"So glad that I can offer you an endless source of amusement, Hec..._Captain_," Jack spat bitterly. "Ye'd best watch how deeply you sleep, I swear..."

Hector moved fast, grabbing Jack by his collar before the boy could escape and easily hoisting him up until Jack's small feet dangled above the planks. "Could have left ye behind to starve to death or be press-ganged by the next crew as landed there," Hector reminded him tersely, giving Jack a rough shake. "Count yer lucky stars that ye've a hammock and a place upon me ship, and pray that I don't reconsider me hospitality and sell ye to the next slaver as comes along, or simply slit yer throat when I grow weary of yer sass!"

Jack's mouth pursed angrily but he wisely held back. "Aye, _sir_," he snarled, twisting and jerking until Hector released him and let him drop unceremoniously to the deck. Picking himself up, Jack crossed his arms over his chest and stuck out his bottom lip in a fine pout, and Elizabeth hid a smile behind her hand when she thought of how often William had reacted the same way to a scolding.

"Yer to assist Master Ragetti in securin' the dinghy and sortin' the contents," Hector said, pointing to where the lanky blonde waited below. "The food and dry goods are to be stored in the hold, and Miss Swann's trunk and the other bags are to be taken to me quarters."

Jack had been walking away sullenly as Hector spoke, but the last instruction stopped him in his tracks and he swivelled around to stare uncomprehendingly from Elizabeth to Hector and back again. "You must have misspoke...I believe that you meant to say, "Missus Turner." Didn't you? Elizabeth, whatever's become of Will?"

Hector pointed threateningly at Jack. "She ain't married, hasn't been since Turner's death, and so she'll be takin' back her maiden name. Will Turner's fate be his own and she be bound to him no longer."

"Even if that is so...why would her belongings go..." Jack gazed at Elizabeth in puzzlement until understanding dawned. "Lizzie! With Hector? No!" he shouted, his peculiarly young face a study in undisguised repulsion. "Is he holding you prisoner, then? A hostage, perhaps? A prisoner! Yes, that must be it!"

"Nay!" roared Hector in rage, his nostrils flaring and eyes bulging. "She be here as me lover! As the mother of me child!"

"Saints preserve us!" answered Jack with a shocked gasp, slumping against the banister as though too overcome with his perceived horror of the situation to stay on his feet. "This day just goes from bad to worse! Barbossa's gone and bred an heir! Where is the little bastard?"

Hector lunged forward and might have tried to throttle Jack then and there, but Elizabeth threw herself in between them and laid a retraining hand on Hector's chest. "It's true, Jack. I'm here because I love him – have loved him longer than I was willing to admit. And yes, he fathered my son William the night before the battle with Beckett."

"And Will? Where was your _husband_ in all of this?" Jack needled, his nose wrinkling as he regarded her snidely. "Seems a cruel irony to name your son for the very man you betrayed."

It was Elizabeth's turn to let loose her temper. "Will was lost to me long before I married him! You shouldn't wonder at what happened to Will and I – you were ultimately, after all, the engineer of his doom, manipulating him to achieve your own ends regardless of the cost! It was _your_ dispute with Jones that ultimately meant that Will – your supposed _friend_ – ended up with his heart cut out and captaining the _Dutchman_ for eternity! Had you settled your debt honourably, who knows where our life might have led? But I will _not_ apologize for finding happiness where I did, and with the one man who has done more to earn my devotion and affection than any other I've ever known!"

Her outburst startled Jack and he shrank back, wounded by her words. She was trembling with rage, disoriented and shaken by the surreal experience of arguing so viciously with one who at least appeared to be a child.

"She owes ye no explanation!" bellowed Hector, drawing his sword. "Ye have yer orders, _boy_, and I expect ye to carry them out without further delay or so help me, I'll tear out yer guts and feed 'em to the fish!"

The threat was unnecessary – it was clear that the accusation Elizabeth had hurled at Jack had done more damage than a physical wound ever could. Jack staggered down the stairs, the weight of her words heavy on his slumping child's shoulders as he meekly followed Ragetti to fulfill his assigned duties.

"Fergive me," muttered Hector, taking her hand and drawing her snugly to him. "I should ne'er have taken him in. Boy or man, he be capable of rendin' me life asunder at every turn. We'll ditch him in Tortuga – where he goes from there, I care not."

"As much as I would like to see him gone, I think we might be better served keeping him close," she answered, wrapping her arm around Hector's waist and taking a deep, calming breath as she leaned into his embrace. "He is determined to take back the _Pearl_; in Tortuga, he might just find others willing to assist him in exchange for the location of the Fountain. He's his own best proof of the potency of the waters there."

"He'll have a tough time of it, convincin' anyone that he really be the infamous Cap'n Jack Sparra," Hector said with a derisive snort. "But it ain't impossible that he might succeed. Aye, an' yer right...better to keep him as part of the crew, at least fer now. Perhaps our voyages might yet take us past that there island he's been marooned on twice now, and we can see if the third time be the charm."

"I can only live in hope," she answered with a subtle smile. Elizabeth leaned her head against Hector's shoulder and looked out over the bustle of activity all around her. "Perhaps we'd best track down our son before Jack has a chance to try and persuade him to lead a mutiny."

"Well, leastways William will have hisself a playmate," Hector said offhandedly, suppressing a grin when she glanced up to see if he was serious.

"Jack's definitely not the best of influences," she replied in the same teasing spirit, "but perhaps he can learn a thing or two from William about getting along nicely with others."

"Not too nice, I'd hope...our lad be a _Barbossa_, after all."

They stood quietly for a time, each lost their own thoughts. "Hector, you asked me once about regrets," Elizabeth finally said, turning to face him. "I want you to know that although I am sorry about the fate to which Will has been consigned, I will never regret falling in love with you. I know there will be more trying times ahead for us, but I swear that I will always be steadfast. I belong with you...William and I both belong with you. I am proud to call myself yours. I should never have walked away from you after the battle."

"That as be worth havin' be worth fightin' fer," he stated philosophically, cupping her jaw in his hand and gazing lovingly at her. "Granted, I hadn't counted on the fight lastin' nigh on ten years, but I'd not do it any different e'en given a chance. T'was our destiny, lass, to sail the world together, even if we were forced to wait fer it."

"Come," she said, backing up toward the stairway and giving him a sultry look. "Let Cotton take the helm; he knows his way to Tortuga well enough without you giving the headings. I want you to make good on that promise you made on the ladder, and I'm not interested in waiting until tonight for my...reprimand."

The heated glimmer in his eyes told her that she'd not have to do much convincing. "Always it falls upon me to mete out what discipline is necessary on board this vessel," Hector sighed heavily, glancing heavenward as if greatly put upon. "Such is the burden of leadership."

"You bear the mantle of responsibility well, my beloved," Elizabeth laughed, her spirits lighter already. "But come, let me see what I may do to ease your burden."

He advanced on her, his expression dark and dangerous. "Lead on, then. Show me what benefits the man as dares to bring his lady love aboard a ship."

"Oh, I shall..." Elizabeth danced just out of his grasp and darted down the stairs, laughing as he pursued her with a predatory growl. He was close to catching her as she pushed roughly past both Jack and Ragetti, and she and her love disappeared into the captain's quarters.


	13. Chapter 13

**Epilogue**

_One night off the coast of Hispaniola, eight years after leaving Bridgeport..._

Elizabeth clung to the worn coil of rope so tightly that her arms shook. A throbbing ache mercilessly clawed its way across her shoulder blades as her muscles seized and bunched from the exertion. That agony combined with the thousand tiny cuts that the rough twine inflicted on her slick palms seemed like nothing, though, when compared to the terrible spears of pain that threatened to rip her apart from the inside out.

Her head snapped back and her knees almost gave way beneath her as another violent spasm wracked her body. For a moment, she simply hung stiffly from the rope secured to the timber overhead as tears streamed over her feverish cheeks, clenching her teeth against screams that threatened to burst once again from her already-raw throat.

"Boy! Get yer arms around yer ma and prop her up! She must stay standin' if I'm to help her!" Hector snapped at the tall, broad-shouldered young man at Elizabeth's back.

Liam – the son who had (to his father's great pride and satisfaction) long ago shed the moniker of 'William' while at the same time taking up the family name 'Barbossa' – moved instantly to obey Hector's command. Elizabeth released the rope and sagged against him, eternally grateful that he could give her strength when hers was so sorely taxed. "I have you, Ma," Liam muttered against her sweaty temple, the fear he so rarely showed clear in his deepening voice. "Da will set things right."

Under any other circumstances, she would have been horrified at her son being forced to witness his mother in such a vulnerable and indecent state, but her dire situation made the hard and fast rules of propriety seem laughable.

"I can't...I don't think..." Her whimper evolved into a wail she could not suppress as her abdomen convulsed again, trying vainly to expel the child therein. She thrashed like a wild animal in a trap, consumed by a sheet of scarlet pain and fighting an insane desire to flee.

"'Lizabeth!" barked Hector in angry alarm. He leaped to his feet from where he'd been kneeling before her and caught her face in his bloodied hands, waiting until the excruciating barrage receded slightly and she was left gasping in its wake. His hair was damp, his brow dotted with perspiration, and the slight tremor in his stained fingers spoke to the toll her struggle was taking on him even as he fought to stay composed for her sake.

"Hector," she sobbed pitifully, the single word a desperate plea for him to end her torment. "It shouldn't be like this...it isn't right that it's taking so long...hurts...it hurts..."

"Ye must listen to me, lass," he answered with a soft growl that under other circumstances would have been appealing. In fact, it was that very velvet tone that had led them to the situation in which they now found themselves. "The babe ain't lying proper – comin' into the world arse-backwards, the stubborn tyke. 'Tis why ye have toiled so long fer naught."

Elizabeth tearfully nodded her understanding even as her hopes sank. So many mothers and infants died due to the very same condition, and the fact that she was no longer a young woman with untold reserves of stamina reduced her odds of surviving even further. It wasn't fair...she had always been careful to take precautions to prevent conception, knowing full well she had long passed the age where she wanted to go through another pregnancy. The fates had other plans for her, though, and it had only taken a single night of inebriated carelessness to find herself where she was now.

"I must bring forth the legs one at a time before ye can go any further – ye must resist the urge to bear down until I say otherwise," Hector continued, firmly grasping her face to keep her full attention. "Once I do that, I'll holler and then ye must squat and push hard and fast. The pull o' the earth will speed the birth – but I need ye to endure fer just a little longer."

"It's starting again...oh God...!" she moaned, feeling another contraction peaking and the accompanying wave of agony crashing in on her. She sank her fingernails into Liam's wiry arms and braced herself as the onslaught began again. Never had she felt so weak, so helpless – whatever courage she might have possessed had been gradually stripped away with each hour she'd struggled to bring her baby forth into the world.

Hector wasted no time, dropping to his knees before her again and shoving his sleeves further up his forearms as he readied himself for the procedure. "Spread yer legs a bit more...aye, that's it," he said, pushing her thighs apart. "It's gonna hurt when I slip me finger in, so ye must be ready. Liam, keep her steady!"

"Aye, sir," Liam answered without hesitation. The lanky sixteen year old braced his legs and cinched his arms more tightly around Elizabeth's chest, bunching her crumpled shift underneath her swollen breasts in the process.

As unbearable as her distress had been before, it was compounded tenfold with the sudden piercing intrusion of Hector's finger into her body. In that moment, Elizabeth shrieked with every shred of breath in her lungs and very nearly passed out. Her muscles all went slack and black dots swam before her eyes as she sucked in each desperate breath.

Giving birth to her first child had been far from pleasurable, but it had been quick and relatively short, helped along by the practiced ministrations of an experienced midwife. But this...the baby was caught fast as a cork in a bottle...the three of them were trapped together in the dark, muggy cabin...the sea roiled ceaselessly beneath the _Pearl..._and bone-jarring agony filled every aspect of her world. A worse hell would have been impossible to imagine.

"Once more, me brave girl, and ye'll be there. A matter of moments and the worst will have passed, I swear to ye."

Elizabeth cried pitifully and shook her head as Hector worked to extract the other leg. She was simply too drained to utter a coherent word, although there were a few choice expletives that came sharply to mind as he attempted to shift the baby's position.

"That's it...just a bit further. 'Lizabeth...got it!"

Suddenly and surprisingly, the worst of the pain abated, leaving her with only a persistent pressure and the irresistible need to push. Her eyes fluttered open and looked at Hector beseechingly.

"Aye, 'tis time," he confirmed solemnly, his hands hidden beneath the bulge of her protruding stomach. "Quickly now, 'Lizabeth! The babe has been far too long in the womb, we haven't a moment to lose."

Elizabeth squirmed in Liam's grasp until he loosened his hold slightly and she could stoop into a crouch. With one hand she reached out to clutch Hector's shoulder while keeping the other on Liam's forearm so she could maintain her balance. Sweat stung her eyes and soaked her hair as she bowed her head and gritted her teeth, thrusting in time with each long contraction.

"Again!" came the brusque command, prompting a snarl from Elizabeth as she squeezed her eyes closed, grunting loudly as she did as he asked. She felt stretched to the limit as the tiny body slid forth in a rush of fluid and the baby's head began to crown. There was a prolonged stinging sensation that caused her to hiss loudly, but she knew that it signalled that relief was finally on the horizon. After what seemed hours, the baby was free of her body and she swayed weakly in Liam's arms.

"Hold off! I've got him! Liam, down on yer knees, let yer ma lean back against ye whilst I care for the wee one."

"It's a boy?" Elizabeth queried shakily, her trembling legs finally giving way as Liam lowered her carefully to the floor and settled her into a sitting position against his thighs. There was a flutter of fear in her throat – the baby had yet to make a sound and what little she could see from where he was curled up within Hector's arms, his little limbs were bluish and limp. "Hector...is he...?"

She tried to sit, straining to get a better look at her newborn son. As she watched anxiously, Hector turned the baby on its belly, holding the tiny head in the palm of his hand with the torso resting along his forearm. With his other hand, he vigorously rubbed at the baby's back.

"Let's hear ye, lad," Hector encouraged softly, his long fingers moving rhythmically. "Shout out now! Give fair warnin' that another Barbossa has made his grand entrance into the world!"

After several agonizing seconds during which the heartfelt prayers of her childhood spilled reflexively from Elizabeth's lips, the baby finally shivered and gave a wet, gagging cough before sucking in his first breath. The yowl that followed was loud and harsh, but the sweetest sound that she could have hoped to hear for all that. Tears trickled down Elizabeth's cheeks as she thanked whatever gods had heard her plea.

"Aye, that's got it," Hector crooned wearily, placing the bawling infant on her chest. Still weeping, Elizabeth tucked the soft cloth around the pinkish, dewy body of her baby son. The warmth of her skin against his seemed to comfort him and his cries gradually faded to indignant squeals as he blinked blearily against the brightness of his new surroundings.

"My little man," she said tearfully, cleaning the chalky white residue from his small cheek with a corner of the blanket. Elizabeth nuzzled his tiny face with her nose and slipped her finger into his grasping hand.

"A strappin' boy, to be sure, an' near as handsome as his father," Hector teased gently, leaning over to buss her brow. His sea blue eyes flicked up to meet Liam's soft brown ones. "A brave thin' ye did fer yer ma, stayin' at her side. Childbirth ain't fer the faint o' heart. Now that ye've been through such a trial, there'll be naught as will faze ye hereafter."

"I thought...it was awful, what she went through..." Elizabeth heard Liam swallow hard and she looked back up at her eldest son, finally understanding how terrifying it had all been for him. The saucy smile he almost always wore, so like his father's, was noticeably absent. Instead, his young face was drawn and his sparsely whiskered chin quivered slightly as Hector severed the cord with a swift, decisive flick of his dagger. "I didn't know if..."

Liam's words were cut short as Elizabeth moaned again, more pain twisting her belly. Her body was working to rid itself of the afterbirth, a process nearly as taxing as delivering the baby itself. "Liam...lay me down and then take your brother. Slip him into the cradle and cover him with the quilt," she said as evenly as she could, her face contorting again as nature worked to complete its course.

"Wh...what's wrong now?!" Liam stuttered in disbelief, his complexion growing even greyer. He edged away from her, lowering her cautiously to the floor. "Is there _another_ baby? I thought it was over!"

With measured nonchalance, Hector tossed a sheet across Elizabeth's hips, covering her from the waist down and sparing Liam any further distress over what was to come. "I find meself in need of a bucket of hot water, a bucket of cold water, a basin and a rag," Hector interjected gruffly just as Liam's emotions seemed about to get the better of him. "Yer ma has gone and made a right mess of our well-appointed quarters. Set the babe in his cot and off to the galley with ye."

"But is she going to be all right?" he pleaded with his father, gingerly extricating the baby from Elizabeth's arms. He stared fixedly down at his brother, seemingly torn between anger at the trouble the little being had caused and panic that he'd been entrusted with carrying such a delicate bundle.

"Rest easy. The worst o' the storm has passed, Liam," Hector reassured him, wincing only slightly as Elizabeth grabbed his hand and squeezed hard, letting him know in no uncertain terms that her rest was not yet at hand. "Now leave us – better she'd be served if'n ye bring forth the provisions I've asked fer rather than hang about and fret."

As Liam departed to fulfill his assigned duties, there came a fresh surge of warm fluid between Elizabeth's legs, leaving her feeling queasy and lightheaded as the afterbirth began to pass. Hector stroked her arm and gazed grimly down at her, helpless to do anything but comfort her as she rode out the final pangs of her ordeal.

At last it was over and Elizabeth collapsed back against the clammy floorboards. Exhausted, she was only vaguely aware when Liam returned and left again, and she let herself hover in numb quasi-consciousness as Hector stripped her bare and used a warm, damp cloth to clean her up. She might have slipped into the beckoning oblivion of sleep had the baby not decided to voice his hunger in the most strident and insistent way possible.

Still groggy, she struggled to sit up but found herself too feeble to perform even that simple task. The muscles of her belly throbbed as though she'd been pummelled in a tavern brawl and there wasn't a shred of strength left in her limbs. Before she could ask for help, she was lifted up into her mate's strong arms and she leaned into him, tucking her face in against his neck as he carried her towards their bunk.

"My hero," she sighed as she sank naked into the feathery quilts, brushing his cheek with her fingertips as he bent over her. Some of the fine laugh lines erased by the waters of the Fountain had found their way back around Hector's eyes, she noticed; the magical elixir might have turned back time but it could not permanently halt its advance. Of course, the events of the past several hours had been nearly as much of a strain upon him as on her, and that no doubt accounted far more than the passing of the years for the weariness she saw on his face.

He captured her hand and held it to his heart. "I'd not have survived losing ye, 'Lizabeth," he whispered hoarsely, going down on one knee at her bedside. His eyes shone with both underlying anguish and relief, and she grew sombre, suddenly understanding how perilously close she had come to dying before his very eyes.

"But you didn't lose me," she said, her voice distressingly weak. "I have fought man and sea to remain with you since you came for me, my beloved, and you'd be hard pressed to rid yourself of me so easily."

The baby chose that moment to release yet another boisterous cry, his desire for sustenance overwhelming his parents' need to express solemn sentiments. Hector rolled his eyes in resignation and reached into the small wooden cradle that Cotton had crafted in anticipation of the _Pearl_'s newest arrival. "Yer son will not be put off any longer," he said with a feigned scowl, lifting the squirming infant from its tangle of blankets and holding him so as to look down crossly into the baby's face. "Fine an' ye can be havin' her fer now, boy, but just ye be rememberin' that I remain cap'n, and I shall claim me woman again whene'er it best suits me mood."

Elizabeth smiled softly. "I fear that he'll be captain of us all, at least for the time being," she said, easing onto her side so that Hector could set the baby at her breast. She drew her little one close and rubbed her cheek against his feathery auburn hair as he sought out his first meal. After a few seconds, the persistent tug on her nipple brought forth an almost painful rush of milk and the baby's eyes drifted closed as he blissfully suckled.

Hector arranged the covers on her shoulder, making sure that she'd not catch a chill. For a time, he stayed on knee at her side and kept a silent vigil as the baby fed, riveted at the scene before him. As weary as Elizabeth was, though, she needed the stimulation of conversation or she risked falling asleep before their son had taken his fill.

"How did you know?" she said, drawing his querying gaze back to her face. "What to do when the baby wouldn't come, I mean. I can't imagine that the captain of a pirate ship is required to play midwife very often."

His lips twitched with a half-hearted smile and his eyes flickered briefly with good humour. "True enough that ye be the only expectin' woman as has e'er been given leave to board me ship. Just so happens, though, t'was a skill I learned long afore fate led me to the sea."

"Do tell," she prompted, caressing the baby's downy forearm as the child tangled his fingers in a stray lock of her hair. "What remarkable talents have you been hiding from me all these years?"

His grin widened and grew slightly more mischievous. "Not sure that's a truth ye'll be wantin' to hear, lass."

She narrowed her eyes at him with pretended suspicion. "Unless you are going to confess to personally delivering countless children you've fathered in ports throughout the Seven Seas, I'd very much like to hear how you learned to handle a woman in the throes of difficult labour."

Although she had spoken in jest, she felt an irrational but undeniable twinge of jealousy as soon as the words were uttered. The possibility certainly existed that Hector had other children – he was far from inexperienced when he'd first bedded her and for all she knew, had taken many more lovers before the two of them had reunited. And while the past was past and there was nothing to be done about it, the notion that he might have shared this same intimate experience with some other woman – or _women_ – upset her more than was reasonable.

The path her thoughts had followed must have shown in her expression, for he gathered her hand in his again and tenderly kissed her knuckles. "Don't be lettin' yer mind take ye to dark places, 'Lizabeth. I've not aided in the birth of a babe, be it mine or any other man's, before this night."

"So then, how did you know what to do?" she pressed, somewhat assuaged by his assurances. It wasn't possible to undo his history – it had to be enough that since he'd found her that first winter's eve in Bridgeport, Hector had remained steadfast and true in every way. Yes, maybe there were offspring he was unaware of, youngsters who had grown up without knowing the identity of their sire. What Elizabeth was certain of, though, was that if he _did_ know of any children, he'd not keep that fact from her. He was far too devoted to Liam, had gone through too much to reclaim him as his son, for her to believe that he'd willingly turn his back on any of his progeny, whatever the circumstances of their births.

"Goats," he stated bluntly.

The single word was so incongruous that it instantly displaced her feelings of possessiveness. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, her brow knotting in puzzlement.

"Me mum raised goats. Come spring, not every birth would go as t'was meant to...and so I learned early on what to do when the kids came breech. 'Course, them nannies didn't bleat near so much as yerself when I came to their assistance."

Elizabeth couldn't help her sharp burst of tired laughter. The baby startled at the harsh sound but then quickly settled back to the business at hand as his mother soothingly patted his back. "So you're telling me that I entrusted the safety and good health of myself and my child to...a goat herder?" she teased.

Hector leaned in close, his eyebrow arched sardonically. "Ye trusted a pirate with yer heart; some might have counselled against that as well."

"I've yet to find cause to regret my choice." She took advantage of his nearness to rise up and catch his lips in a brief but sweet kiss, and felt the contact all the way through to her heart. Each day they shared was a blessing beyond what they likely deserved; wasting time fretting about what might or might not have taken place in his distant past was foolish at best.

"Ye must rest," he said, smoothing her damp hair back from her face as she settled back into place. "The lad has had enough fer now; take whate'er small respite the nipper will grant ye as ye may."

Far too exhausted to protest, Elizabeth simply watched as he took the sated infant from her side and wrapped him unevenly in soft, new cotton blankets. Fatherly pride shone from Hector's face and she decided then that everything she had gone through was worth it. Her eyelids grew heavier and she blinked slowly as Hector eased the child back into his cozy cradle. Before she let herself drift off, though, there was one last matter than needed settling.

"What shall we name our new son, my beloved?" she yawned, nestling deeper into her warm cocoon of bed sheets. "You had no say the first time around and so I leave the choice to you alone."

He shrugged as if he'd never given it a moment's thought. "Figured t'was a mother's prerogative to pick one out. Just so long as we be steerin' clear o' 'William,' I'll have no complaint."

"You can do better than that," she gently scolded. "A boy's name follows him through his whole life...it shapes the kind of man he will ultimately become. Something strong, something that speaks to his heritage would be..."

"Alejandro," blurted Hector before she could go on. "I'd name him after me da. A fisherman, he was. Taught me all I know of the sea afore he passed, stolen from us by a sudden storm when I'd seen naught but ten years."

"Alejandro Barbossa," Elizabeth sounded out thoughtfully. The name was almost lyrical in the way it tripped off the tongue, although she knew she'd likely end up calling the boy 'Alex' for short. She smiled broadly and nodded. "Yes, that would be almost perfect. But he needs something of his father as well as his grandfather. How about 'Alejandro _Hector_ Barbossa'?"

Hector nodded but didn't answer, instead turning his silent regard back to their newly christened baby. He was attempting to seem blasé, but Elizabeth couldn't miss the telltale glistening of his eyes or the tight line of his lips that betrayed his true feelings. Her big, brutish pirate, nearly reduced to tears...she could not help but love him all the more for it. She gave one last happy, drowsy sigh and finally allowed herself succumb to hard-earned slumber.

* * *

It was impossible to know whether it was the thunderous boom of cannon fire or Alejandro's shriek of fear that first woke her, but Elizabeth came to sudden awareness with her heart racing and her ears ringing. The ship was pitching and yawing, every plank and beam creaking and cracking as loudly as if the vessel was about to break in two. Hastily yanking on her robe as she stumbled from her bed, Elizabeth just managed to snatch the baby from his cradle a moment before it would have overturned and thrown him to the floor.

As she clutched her bawling son tightly and tried to console him with soothing words, huge chunks of the hull suddenly exploded into the cabin with a massive roar as enemy artillery found its mark. She instinctively shielded the baby from the jagged splinters with her body as she raced on still wobbly legs and bare feet towards the door.

She could feel that her shoulder had been pierced with bits of wood and sensed wet warmth trickling down her back from the wounds. However, the pain itself barely registered against her growing panic as she shoved the heavy door open with her hip and all but fell out onto the deck.

The scene was one of utter chaos, with crewmen scurrying about the ship and howling in terror as though they were being pursued by Satan himself. Thick, black smoke obliterated the moon and stars, producing a hellish haze that choked both her and the baby, and kept her from calling out as she whirled around desperately in search of Hector and Liam.

In the midst of the bedlam, she could hear Hector's voice booming from the helm, demanding calm and shouting orders to his men. Although the smoke almost entirely obscured the upper deck, she warily edged over to where she knew the larboard stairs lay. Heart pounding with fear for her family and the crew, she shuffled with one hand extended outwards in search of the railing.

Before Elizabeth could ascend a single step, the bo'sun tumbled down the stairs and landed at her feet. She watched in uncomprehending horror as a rope, moving with what seemed to be an eerie life of its own, slowly encircled the neck of the young man, each coil tightening like those of a boa constrictor. With his eyes bulging wildly and face turning purple, the bo'sun reached towards her pleadingly a heartbeat before he was suddenly yanked up into the air through the smoke into the rigging above. He was not taken so quickly, though, that she didn't hear the snap of his spine before his twitching feet had disappeared entirely.

Both the shock of what she'd seen and her weakened condition left her faint, but she pressed on towards the beacon of Hector's voice, determined to reach her lover and warn him before the same horrible fate could befall him. She had no idea what was happening but she understood that if she stopped it would mean certain death – for her and their newborn son.

"Hector!" she managed to gasp out, her eyes stinging and watering as she prayed he'd be able to hear her above the thunderous chaos. She loosened the baby's blankets so that she could cover Alejandro's face and save him from inhaling the endless swirls of acrid smoke that surrounded them.

"Lizabeth! What in the blue blazes are ye doin' above deck?! Ye must take cover!" Whether drawn by the baby's cries or her own desperate call, Hector finally emerged from the sooty grey miasma and caught her just as her legs failed.

"What's happening?! I just saw the bo'sun...a line, moving of its own accord...it wrapped around his throat...he was...he's dead!" she stammered as he crouched with her on the deck. "What could be doing this...where is Liam?!"

"Yer hurt!" he growled, his eyes widening as his hand came away from her back coated with her blood. "We must get ye back to our quarters, get someone to tend to ye..."

"There is no safety to be had there either," she replied, hunching protectively over Alejandro as another sudden volley of cannon fire illuminated the surroundings and snapped the booms above them. "Who is attacking? Why aren't we fighting back?!"

"Our adversary has yet to show his cowardly face," he snapped, pulling her to her feet with an arm cinched tightly around her waist, "but there be dark magic at work. The _Pearl_ won't obey me...neither guns nor helm will respond. We're helpless as ducks upon the water, waitin' fer the killin' blow."

"Cap'n...Da!" Much to both Elizabeth's relief and distress, Liam was limping up the stairs, heavily favouring his right leg. "Look to starboard! There's a ship approaching! I've not seen the like of it before..."

All three of them peered into the night as a phantom breeze suddenly cleared the obscuring smoke away and they saw the foe that bore down on them out of the darkness.

"Gods of sea and sky preserve us," Hector rasped, instinctively taking a step back. "T'is the _Queen Anne's Revenge."_

There was no need for moonlight, for the _Revenge _was alight with dozens of torches illuminating its every gruesome detail. The ragged, sooty sails, streaked with what looked to be dried blood, billowed in an icy gale that seemed to accompany the frigate and the skeletal spearman dangling from her bowsprit grinned with gleeful menace. Shadowy figures of men stood silently watching as the distance between them vanished, dark grey shapes against a fiery background. Worse yet were the twin scorched holes in the prow that seemed to stare at them like the cold dead eyes of a hungry shark. At least there was no sign of the devastating Greek fire simmering in the prow...not yet. There was only one man who sailed such a ship, a man no longer entirely of the mortal world.

"Blackbeard!" Elizabeth cried out in fear, shaking her head in shocked denial as the true nature of their peril sank in. "No! Why is he pursuing us? We've done nothing to offend, have never ventured anywhere near his territory...!"

Edward Teach was the most feared pirate on the seas, bar none...he joyfully doled out generous helpings of cruelty to the innocent and guilty alike, damning himself but growing stronger with each soul he delivered to Hades. There'd been many attempts to cut him down but still he sailed, defying the very laws of nature and death itself. Any buccaneer with a lick of sense steered far clear of him and prayed fervently every night to avoid exactly what was about to be visited upon the _Black Pearl_ and her crew.

"The 'why' of it don't matter! All we need know is that he takes no prisoners! Liam, get yer ma and brother to the long boat _now_; row 'em ashore b'fore the enemy boards and lay waste to the lot of ust!" Hector essentially threw Elizabeth into Liam's arms and strode to the balustrade overlooking the main deck. "Load yer pistols an' open fire!" he bellowed to his men, straining to be heard above the incessant pepper of cannon fire from the _Revenge_. "Draw yer swords and hack their limbs from their bodies if they dare set foot upon the _Pearl_! I'll not see me ship fall into the hands of this poxy, cur-buggerin' fiend!"

Liam firmly took hold of Elizabeth's free hand and attempted to steer her down the stairs to the main deck, but she stubbornly set her feet and refused to budge. "No! I'm not leaving your father! Take Alejandro and make your way to land. Watch over him…"

As she spoke, her eldest son's eyes widened in shock and he shook his head, his deep auburn waves of hair catching the firelight from the _Revenge_'s torches. "I can't! The baby needs _you!_"

Before she could argue further, Hector stepped up behind her and scooped her up. "Ye force me to be blunt, 'Lizabeth – ye will be naught but a hindrance to me if'n ye remain aboard," he snarled as he hurried down the stairs with his mate and new baby in his arms. Liam followed as quickly as his injured leg would allow. "Ye can't fight, not like this, and will prove a fatal distraction to me in the end. Should ye stay, we'll all perish this night."

The pain in Elizabeth's shoulder flared as Hector deposited her unceremoniously into the long boat, but it was the pain at leaving him that caused her the most distress. "I don't…I can't…" she rasped, her throat constricting and her heart breaking. Tears sprang from her eyes as she reached out to Hector, snagging his sleeve before he could draw back, knowing she had to let him go but incapable of making herself do so.

"Ye must," he answered firmly, his tone softening at her expression. As Liam clambered into the boat and took a seat across from her, Hector cradled Elizabeth's face in his hands and kissed her softly. "I swear by all that be holy that I shall find ye again. Until that day, protect all that I hold most precious and stay safe until I return to ye, me love."

He pulled himself free of Elizabeth's grasp and shrugged off his heavy coat, draping it over her shoulders to provide some protection from the night air. From his belt, he tore a small satchel of coins and tucked them deep into the coat pocket. "The gold will do ye fer now, but ye know as well as I where we've stashed a bit more shine. Ye'll not do without."

"Da! The pulleys won't let the rope through!" Liam cried as he jerked on the lines that kept the gig tethered to the _Pearl_. "Whatever spell has been cast has hold of them, too!"

"Master Barbossa, 'tis up to ye to keep yer ma and yer brother safe from all harm in me absence. Understood?" Hector demanded as he drew his cutlass. Liam nodded, tears shining in his eyes as he gazed back at his father.

"Please," Elizabeth begged, knowing even as she did so that it was futile. "Please come with us."

Hector disregarded her mournful request – as she knew he would. "Brace yerselves fer the drop and row quick as ye can, boy!" With two mighty swings, he severed the thick lines, and the long boat lurched and then dropped. Elizabeth curled herself protectively around Alejandro as they fell through space, her breath abruptly knocked from her lungs when they hit the wickedly rough waves beside the _Pearl._

"Ma…are you all right?" Liam gasped, taking up the oars.

Elizabeth just winced and nodded as she fought for air. "Row, Liam," she finally squeezed out, lifting her gaze to the deck of their ship. Though the gloom and smoke, Hector's dark silhouette was visible for only a moment before he turned away to defend his ship and his crew against an unbeatable foe.

"Hector…" she whispered despondently, burying her tear-streaked face against the warm, wriggling bundle cradled to her breast as they left her lover and his men to their fate.

* * *

_FIN_


End file.
